


The Other Shoe

by Cliophilyra



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, DCBB 2015, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2015, Homophobic Language, Human Castiel, Human Gabriel, Illustrated, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Men of Letters, Men of Letters Bunker, Pining, magical abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:46:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5238428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliophilyra/pseuds/Cliophilyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been 10 years since two scruffy boys arrived at Castiel's home in the Men of Letters bunker. Dragged along by their father, in search of help with a hunt.</p><p>10 years since he fell in love with a green eyed teenager.</p><p>10 years since the first and last time they saw each other.</p><p>They're all older and supposedly wiser now and Cas could at least pretend to have forgotten all about that day. Until two familiar men turn up out of the blue, dripping blood on the bunkers doormat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Finally! Here is my first attempt at the DCBB! 
> 
> I have really enjoyed writing it - most of the time!
> 
> It is very loosely based on a post I saw on Tumblr years ago about Cas as a Man of Letters. I can't remember the OP or find the original post but if it was you that posted it - thanks!
> 
> Huge thanks and love to my Beta - flutterby_cupcake_26 Thank you my sweet, you're awesome. Also to anyone else who has helped or just listened to me whinge about it - Thank you and I'm sorry! :-)
> 
> Also much love to my artist Deathbycoldopen for the lovely pictures - thank you so much! xxx
> 
> I hope you enjoy and please do tell me what you think.

July 2005.

The day the two hunters show up on his doorstep just happens to be the same day that Castiel Novak has resigned himself to the fact that he will probably murder his older brother within the month.

Cas is down in the shooting range of the aging bunker that is their temporary home, trying to let off some steam. He stands with his shoulders squared, feet apart trying to breathe steadily as he takes aim at the paper target at the other end of the long echoing room, attempting to calm himself enough to delay the inevitable fratricide.

All the members of the Men of Letters order are required to spend a period of time manning the bunker: finding cases, dispatching the hunters, dealing with their problems and questions, fielding calls from suspicious officials and doing research. Some people – annoyingly gregarious people with names beginning with G for example - might find it tedious, but to Castiel it’s heaven. Or would be if it wasn’t for the company.

The combination of a juvenile sense of humor, a low boredom threshold and an extensive knowledge of practical magic make his brother one of the least bearable people to be confined with. So far Gabriel has dealt with the tedium by playing an un-ending stream of stupid pranks and generally being a pain in Castiel’s ass.

They both grew up in the bunker, but while Gabriel had been desperate to get out and get his own place, Castiel had always felt more at ease here than anywhere else. When they were younger there were dozens of members of the order living and working here. There was always something going on; experiments, research, weird smells and small explosions caused by spells gone awry. These days it is quieter; the members have spread out over the world and with hunters becoming increasingly self-reliant, not to mention untrusting of magic - there is less need for this place. It is still a treasure trove of knowledge though - everything you ever wanted to know about the supernatural but were too afraid to ask.

Staring down the sights of the handgun, Castiel is seized by a creeping sense of unease as he considers the myriad of possible ways in which Gabriel could have extended his pranks to this room. He looks around nervously, eyeing the bare walls and hole-ridden paper targets for any sign that they might be thinking of doing something unusual. Then he glances at the gun in his hands again and sighs. He wouldn’t do that, Castiel tries to re-assure himself, he wouldn’t do anything that would actually put me in danger - would he? He might have believed that before the incident of the cream that had changed into white paint somewhere between his coffee cup and his mouth - that had definitely not been safe. Despite spitting it into the sink before he’d swallowed much more than a mouthful, Castiel had felt distinctly odd for the rest of the day: It seemed there was little, up to and including attempted poisoning, that Gabriel wouldn’t stoop to in pursuit of a cheap laugh and Castiel is still livid. He is purposefully staying out of his brother’s way in an attempt to prevent himself doing or saying something he might come to regret for the rest of the time they still have to spend more or less alone together in the bunker.

He stands for a moment, listening to the silence and then, sighing, he slips the safety back on and puts the gun down on the rough wooden shelf. He pushes his hands through his messy dark hair. He should be used to this; growing up in the bunker, avoiding his brother’s pranks became second nature but it has been a while since they last lived together and Castiel is out of practice.

He can’t carry on like this, wondering if every appliance or foodstuff in the place is booby-trapped. He needs to talk some sense into his brother before one of them ends up in jail or worse.

He puts the gun and earplugs away and wearily climbs the two worn steps back to the corridor and heads back to the living area.

*

As he passes the arched doorway to the large, old-fashioned kitchen Castiel glimpses something out of the corner of his eye that stops him dead. Slowly he turns to look into the room, taking a deep breath and preparing to start yelling. However, as he turns he realizes he was mistaken. Every surface gleams, apparently even cleaner that he remembers it being hours before. He blinks in surprise, convinced that he had seen a bomb-site of flour and cake batter covering the steel surfaces. Gabriel may actually be driving him mad.

His brother is leaning against the long counter next to a tray of freshly baked chocolate muffins and a glass of what is hopefully milk, stuffing his face and getting floury, chocolaty, fingerprints all over Castiel’s laptop.

Castiel takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment, forcing down an appealing fantasy of strangling his brother with the flex from the mixer. “What are you doing?” He asks, trying unsuccessfully to keep his tone even.

Gabriel looks up from the screen, floppy dark blond hair falling over his eyes and cheeks bulging with cake like a demented hamster. “W’sit look like?” he replies, sucking chocolate off his thumb.

Castiel feels his eye start to twitch as he watches his brother spray his laptop with crumbs.

“M’eating. Here, try one. They’re awesome – if I do say so myself.” Gabriel picks up a cooling muffin from the rack next to him and throws it to his brother.

Caught off guard, Castiel barely even has time to raise his hands before the cake hits him in squarely in the forehead and falls to the floor. He stares down at it, now a sad heap of crumbs on the tiles and then up at his brother’s shit-eating grin and something snaps. “Gabriel, what the hell is wrong with you!” he bellows.  
Gabriel looks up, blinking his golden-brown eyes in surprise. He looks over his shoulder at the kitchen then turns back to Castiel with a smirk, “Wow Cassie, what’s got your panties in a bunch?”

Castiel looks back at his brother, narrowing his eyes. He grinds his teeth, still angry but unable to think of a real, justifiable reason; it’s extremely frustrating. Deciding that speaking now would be a mistake, he spins on his heel and heads back out to the corridor. “Use your own laptop!” He shouts over his shoulder.

“I can’t, the keys are all sticky!” Comes the reply that Castiel choses to pretend he hasn’t heard.

As Castiel disappears from view the immaculate kitchen gives a slight, sideways flicker and suddenly it appears that a small and very localized tornado has passed through. Drifts of flour cover the previously gleaming steel counters, the giant range oven is open and covered with smears of chocolate, globs of cake batter drip from the beaters of an old blue enamel mixer and down the cupboard doors. Gabriel rolls his eyes and grins to himself; even after all these years he can still fool his dumbass brother with a simple glamour.

*

Castiel enters the library and takes a deep breath, allowing the familiar leathery-vanilla scent of dust and old paper to soothe his frayed nerves. He leans over one of the large wooden tables in the center of the room; hands flat on the well-worn, polished surface, surveying the piles of papers and books left from last night’s research. He’d been too exhausted to think about tidying them away when he’d finally found the answer to the hunter’s question and, instead, had crashed, fully clothed, on his bed. It had taken him six hours straight to work out that the monster she was hunting was a Tartalo and then another couple to figure out how to dispatch one. What it was doing in New Jersey he still had no idea; they were usually native to Spain according to the lore. He just hopes she had been able to carry out his instructions successfully.

Castiel begins to pick up the books that cover the table, placing them back on the shelves set into the warm brick walls of the long room. He skirts around the other tables, gathering the rarer scrolls into his arms and switching off the amber glass reading lamps. Yawning, he heads towards one of the storage areas, where the more important items in the collection are kept.

He is just pushing the last of the scrolls gently back into their protective tubes when a loud banging noise resounds throughout the bunker. He looks up in surprise, turning back toward the main library and the direction of the sound. It sounds like someone is hammering on the front door. He listens for a moment, head on one side. There is silence then the noise comes again, louder and more urgent.

*

Gabriel is already ahead of Castiel as he reaches the hexagonal entrance room. He glances back as he jogs up the stairs to the door, boots clanging on the metal steps. “Expecting company, Cassie?” he asks with a grin, waggling his eyebrows.

Castiel shook his head once. “Anyone who should be in here has a key,” he reminds his brother, looking up from the bottom of the steps as Gabriel reaches for the lock.

Gabriel rolls his eyes, “Do you really think there’s anything out there the two of us can’t handle?”

“I’d really rather not find out!” Castiel argues, following him up the steps.

“Oh take the stick out of your ass for once.”

The banging on the door resumes, louder this time, followed by a deep voice shouting, “Open the fucking door! I know you’re in there you stuck-up pricks. We need help, like now!”

Castiel frowns, “Who is it?” he calls out, ignoring his brother’s eye-roll.

“Dean and Sam Winchester! Now open the goddamn door!” The voice calls back.

Castiel starts, looking up at Gabriel with wide eyes; it’s been years since he heard those names. Memories hit him like a punch in the gut and he tries to ignore the sudden dryness of his mouth and the anxious tingling that spreads through his fingers.

Gabriel raises his eyebrows and takes a deep breath as he unlocks the door, he’d almost given up on ever seeing them here. The Winchesters and the Men of Letters haven’t been on good terms for a long time.

As Gabriel pulls open the door, two men practically fall onto the balcony. One is ridiculously tall, built like a tree but apparently badly injured; he holds a blood-soaked cloth against his neck and his face is pale, long hair sticking to clammy skin. The other man is equally well built but shorter, although still inches taller than Castiel and a lot taller than Gabriel. He appears a little older, with short brown hair and a furious expression. He has one arm around the taller man who is leaning against his shoulder, fighting to hold his head up.

It takes him a moment to reconcile his memory of two scruffy kids with these men but Castiel is surprised at how easily he recognizes them. Sam might be three times the size he was the last time they met, but his floppy hair is the same and he would know Dean anywhere, even if he couldn’t see his piercing green eyes. The way he carries himself, even the way he dresses, hasn’t changed a bit.

As Castiel stands and stares, trying to work out what the hell to say, Dean shoves a huge bundle of something ahead of him with his free hand. Whatever it is falls to the ground, landing at Cas’s feet in a crumpled heap of moth-eaten rags.

As Castiel stares at it in confusion, the tattered thing turns a huge, horrendous face up to look at him. He takes an involuntary step backward, almost tripping over his own feet at the sight of it. The creature appears to have no skin, just a bloody covering of exposed muscle and veins over a thin frame and grossly over-large head. Its awful face is dominated by one huge eye, wide and pale, and it’s dark, lipless mouth is smeared with blood that stains sharp teeth bright red. The rest of its body is hidden under the remnants of a grey shapeless cloak. Castiel swallows hard; although he is familiar with all manner of monsters and non-human creatures, he rarely comes in contact with them outside of his books and the internet. The unexpected encounter with the visceral sight, sound, and smell of the supernatural catches him off-guard for a moment.

He looks up at the two men at the door again, “What on earth is…” He begins, tailing off as he realizes that Sam has sagged heavily against his brother and is sliding down, trying to keep his grip on the bloody cloth at his neck while Gabriel and Dean do their best to hold him up.

“Woah! Ok Sammy, up you come; let’s get you looked at,” Gabriel is saying and Castiel must have missed the part where he figured out which is Sam and which is Dean. His words might have seemed flippant considering the amount of blood currently running down Sam’s neck but if there’s one thing Gabe is good at, other than cooking and driving him crazy, it’s healing and taking care of people.

Sam mumbles unintelligibly, something that sounds like, “m’not Sammy,” before his head drops forward and all his weight is suddenly on the shoulders of the two men supporting him.

Dean grunts under the sudden weight and looks over at Gabriel, “You need to help him. That fucking thing bit him and something’s not right.” Dean puts his hand gently over the cloth pressed against Sam’s neck and pulls it very slightly back to reveal a spiders-web of thin, purplish-black lines radiating from the wound. As they watch, the lines seem to creep slowly under Sam’s skin. Gabriel raises an eyebrow and nods in agreement, he pulls Sam’s arm over his shoulder and between him and Dean they begin to lead him towards the infirmary.

Suddenly alone with the creature Castiel looks down as it glares up at him with its pale, baleful eye. He grimaces, grabs a fistful of the dusty rags that swathe it and hauls it upright. The creature’s arms are also horribly out of proportion, almost dragging on the ground even when it stands, they are bound behind its back with iron cuffs engraved with various binding spells and symbols. He traces his thumb over the rough scratches in amazement.

*

July 1995

_Castiel was sitting at one of the tables in the bunker’s library, trying and failing to focus on the rough metal in front of him. He held a knife in one hand and frowned in concentration as he drew it back and forth repeatedly, scratching the final line of a sigil into the surface of the iron. This was his first attempt at making a magical object; a pair of iron handcuffs to bind magical creatures. He tried to focus on his own magic as he worked, infusing it into his work like Rose had showed him but he kept feeling his attention slipping away. He was bored. It had been a week since Gabriel had left the bunker, headed for New Orleans to meet a Bokor woman who was going to teach him about magical healing, and Castiel actually found himself missing his brother. As far as he was concerned that was as far down the scale of boredom and loneliness as it was possible to fall._

_Just as he put the knife down with a sigh the door opened and Naomi, one of the members of the order, walked in, followed by a man he didn’t recognize. The man was tall with dark hair and a beard, dressed in old jeans, plaid shirt and a worn, brown leather jacket._

_“This is the library.” Naomi was saying, “The others will be along in a moment.” She looked over to where Castiel sat. “Castiel dear, can you make yourself scarce for a bit? We need the library for a meeting.” She gestured to the other man, “This is John Winchester. We are endeavoring to help him with a demon problem. His sons are with him; Sam and Dean. Dean is about your age I think?” She looked at the man who nodded. “Why don’t you go and find them? Show them around?”_

_Castiel sighed deeply and got up, folding the knife and sticking it and the cuffs into his back pocket. “Ok,” he muttered._


	2. Chapter 2

JULY 1995

_Dean and Sam wandered down the long, pale green tiled corridor, glancing at the doors that led off both sides to who knew where. It was cool, despite the lack of windows and the fact that they were apparently inside a hill, a slight breeze from the vents ruffled their hair as they passed. Blessed relief after the miles they had travelled in the sweltering car to get here._

_When no one had immediately told them where to go after their dad had gone to his meeting with the Order, they had slipped off to explore._

_“What is this place Dean?” Sam asked, looking up at his brother._

_“It’s a secret. Need to know, and kids don’t need to know.” Dean replied, smirking._

_“Shut up Dean! Tell me! Seriously, I want to know. Anyway I’m not a kid.”_

_“Yes you are, you bitched and whined all the way here like a baby. You nearly drove Dad nuts.”_

_“I did not! The car was hot and the seats were sticky and it was sooo dullll.”_

_“See, you’re still whining.”_

_Sam fell into a silent sulk as they walked on down the apparently endless hall of doors. Occasionally Dean tried one of the handles, but they all seemed to be locked. If he was honest Dean wasn’t entirely clear what this place was either but he was damned if he would admit that to Sam. He knew it was important and secretive and his Dad was hoping they’d be able to get some help here. The Men of Letters were experts on monsters and hunting and demons and they might be able to help them find the one that…_

_Just as Dean reached out to try the next door it opened, startling him out of his reverie and causing him to jump back. He let out an involuntary squeak, which he immediately tried to disguise as a cough. A small, round, older woman, dressed in bright colors with grey hair in a long plait, walked out of the small room, almost colliding with them both. She looked confused for a moment and then smiled, “You must be the Winchester’s.” She said in a soft, British accent._

_Dean nodded cautiously, wondering if they were about to get yelled at._

_“You shouldn’t really be wondering around here on your own you know. Where’s your father?” She continued, looking around._

_“He’s talking to the old guys,” Dean replied._

_The woman laughed, “Oh right. Well why don’t you come with me then? Are you hungry? I’m sure we can find you something to eat.” She started off down the hall, her long plait bouncing against her shoulders as she walked._

_Dean and Sam looked at each other, the woman seemed friendly enough and they were hungry. Dean shrugged and they set off after her._

_They followed her through the maze and down a small flight of steps to a big kitchen. There were shining steel surfaces everywhere and a big wooden table with benches. The giant oven was on, making the room slightly too warm and there were trays covered in linen cloths all over the counters. The woman went over to the huge fridge and opened the door, humming as she looked inside. She pulled out a big carton of milk and held it up, “You boys like milk?”_

_Sam nodded and Dean muttered, “Prefer a beer,” under his breath. The woman raised an eyebrow at him, “Tough luck.” she said, putting the milk down. Standing on tiptoes in her soft purple boots, she proceeded to open every cupboard in the room, “Where are the sodding glasses?” She muttered to herself, clattering doors and crockery. The last cupboard proved to be the home of the glasses; she took out two and poured out the milk, handing both glasses to Dean who passed one to his brother._

_“I’m Rose by the way,” she said, “I haven’t been here long, hence not being able to find anything.” She pulled back the cloth on one of the covered trays, revealing a pile of still-warm chocolate chip cookies. “Ah ha! Bingo!” She exclaimed, taking one herself and passing two to Dean. He smiled and stuffed one into his mouth, holding the other one as if about to take a bite out of it._

_Sam punched him in the arm; “Dean!” He hissed._

_“What?” Dean replied, around his mouthful of cookie._

_“It’s mine!”_

_“Is it? I don’t remember anyone saying that.”_

_“Screw you Dean, give it here!”_

_Rose looked on, trying to hide her smile as Dean rolled his eyes and handed the second cookie to his brother with a grin._

_Sam grabbed it from him and went to sit at the big wooden table, dipping the cookie into his glass of milk and pointedly ignoring Dean._

_Rose took a plate from another cupboard, piled a few more of the cookies on it and placed it in front of Sam. “Brothers are rubbish aren’t they?” She smiled. Suddenly she pulled a watch out of her pocket, “Crap! I was in the middle of an experiment that’s kind of important and I really need to get back to it. Will you kids be alright here? Be careful of the oven, ok?”_

_Dean rolled his eyes at her; “I’m 16 lady,” he said, “I do more cooking than anyone else in this family.”_

_Rose gave him a look and sighed, “Just don’t touch anything that looks like it might kill you, ok?” She said as she left the room._

_Dean helped himself to another cookie and put his feet up on the table. Rose seemed ok, he thought, and the cookies were awesome; this place could definitely be worse._

_Sam grabbed a third cookie and stuffed it in his mouth. Dean watched him, “You’ll make yourself sick Sammy,” he said mildly, leaning back in his chair as he finished his own and took a swig of milk._

_“No I won’t,” Sam replied, “I’m hungry.”_

_Dean said nothing; it had been a while since they’d eaten anything that wasn’t spaghetti-o”s or cereal, the kid deserved a chance to pig out._

_*_

_Castiel wandered down the corridors in search of the Winchester boys. His palms were sweating and he kind of wanted to run and hide in his room; but his hatred of socializing was being over-ridden by his extreme boredom. Also he was intrigued to meet someone his own age who knew about the supernatural._

_As he passed the kitchen he heard unfamiliar voices, one low and amused, the other higher and vaguely petulant. He hovered on the step, peering around the kitchen entrance._

_There were two boys sitting at the kitchen table. The one facing away seemed about his age with short, light brown hair and broad shoulders. The other was younger than him with longish brown hair that fell over his eyes. He was stuffing cookies in his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in a week and his eyes widened as he spotted Castiel over his brothers shoulder._

_The older boy twisted awkwardly to see what his brother was looking at and Castiel almost gasped; he was beautiful. That didn’t seem like a word that should apply to a scruffy teenager in an old plaid shirt but Castiel couldn’t think of a better one. His eyes were brilliant green, like bottle-glass, framed by long, thick eyelashes and his face was perfect; all square jaw, white teeth, soft, full mouth, and freckles dusted over his straight nose. Castiel swallowed hard and tried to smile._

_Until this moment his theory that he may be more attracted to men than women had been just that as he had no real experience of either. The way his mouth dried when the boy returned his smile seemed to confirm the theory._

July 2005

So far Dean has given no indication that he even remembers the bunker, never mind him. Castiel hates himself for thinking like this; it’s been more than 10 years, Sam is sick and Dean is distracted. What was he expecting?

Lost in thought, Castiel almost misses the vicious steam-kettle hiss of the creature as it lunges toward him; twisting as it tries to sink its vile teeth into his shoulder. The clammy warmth of its breath on his skin warns him in the nick of time and he spins; slamming the creature back against the railing, tipping it precariously over the edge. “I wouldn’t try that if I was you,” Castiel says lowly, pulling the creature back towards him as it hisses again, splitting blood. Castiel wipes carelessly at his face and grabs the creature again, hauling it down the stairs and off towards the dungeon.

*

The monster struggles the whole way, its bare-bone feet clicking on the floor, dripping blood as Castiel drags it along the echoing corridors of the bunker, into a storage room and through the hidden door to the dungeon. Castiel wrinkles his nose when he looks behind them and realizes he’s going to have to clean up all the gore that it’s trailed between here and the door.

The small room holds only one metal chair and table within its salt-washed walls. The concrete floor is inlaid with a huge iron devil’s trap and the ceiling is covered with a myriad of overlapping binding spells and sigils, painted and engraved in a multitude of ancient languages.

With a sigh he shoves the creature down into the chair, quickly removing the iron cuffs and fastening shackles around its arms and the arms of the chair as it twists and hisses again. Its wrists are black and blistered underneath the cuffs; whatever this thing is, iron doesn’t agree with it.

“What are you?” He asks it, forcing himself to look at its face. The over-sized eye swivels to stare at him but the creature says nothing. Castiel closes his eyes and grips its skinny arm tighter through the rough, grey fabric. He tries to look into its mind but he doesn’t hold out much hope, it’s not his strong suit; Gabriel is better at that sort of thing.

His low expectations make the ferocity of what bursts behind his eyelids all the more terrifying. There is an explosion of red as if he stepped from a darkened room into blinding sun and he is seized by a sensation of endless, aching thirst and grasping, covetous need. His mouth tastes like dust, his skin is cracked and peeling. He pulls his hand away with a jolt, opens his eyes and stares at his arm, surprised to see the skin smooth and unmarked.

As the creature regards him impassively, Castiel’s hands twitch at his sides. He needs to know what this thing is but he can’t bring himself to plunge back into that gnawing emptiness. Instead he tightens the straps, making sure it’s secure, picks up the cuffs and heads for the door.

As he pushes against the heavy metal, strangled laughter echoes from behind him and a voice like the sound of drowning says, “You would have been a much better catch.”

Castiel spins around and stares at the figure in the chair but it just gazes back at him, unmoving and he finds himself doubting he had even heard the voice at all.  

*

In the glowing, white-tiled infirmary, Sam lies, mostly unconscious, on a stainless steel examining table. Gabriel lifts the gore-soaked rag from his neck and gently pushes back the blood-matted ends of Sam’s long hair to reveal a ragged wound, the flesh deeply torn by sharp teeth. The bleeding is beginning to slow, the blood now in thick clots. He winces, it must have hurt like hell and the kid has lost a lot of blood; his skin shows pale and sallow under his tan. Gabriel doesn’t let his concern show as he looks up at Dean who stands by Sam’s head, hands flexing and shifting restlessly at his sides as he watches Gabriel work; clearly less than comfortable letting someone else care for his brother.

Gabriel pitches the bloody rag into a bin at the end of the table and picks up some clean gauze. He dips it into a bowl of warm water at his side and presses it gently against Sam’s neck, blotting as softly as he can to wash away the blood and get a look at the wound itself. By some miracle it seems that, despite the heavy bleeding, the bite has missed all the major arteries.

Sam’s closed eyes flicker and he groans quietly. “Hey!” Dean says, glaring at Gabriel, “Careful!”

Gabriel just smiles over at him. “It’s ok, Dean-o, I know what I’m doing. You did the right thing bringing him here.”

Dean huffs, not sounding entirely convinced. “The only reason I didn’t just gank that son of a bitch on the spot and patch Sam up myself is that weird spider-web shit.” He points to the strange pattern snaking its way further up Sam’s neck, now almost to the edge of his jaw, “I have no fucking idea what it is or how to get it the fuck off him. This place was close and the best chance of a quick answer. That’s the only reason we’re here, man.”

“You’ve been here before though, haven’t you?” Gabriel asked, trying to sound innocently curious. Like he doesn’t remember the fallout, even after 10 years.

Dean looks away and his shoulders tighten, “A long time ago,” is all he says.

Gabriel nods, deciding not to push, at least not yet. He focuses on clearing the blood from Sam’s neck, revealing more of the blackened, poisonous-looking tendrils that curl over his skin. “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever seen anything exactly like this but I’ve got a good idea what’s causing it.” He says, leaning back to evaluate his progress.

Sam’s eyes move rapidly behind closed lids and sweat beads on his forehead, the drops running down over his temples and into his brown hair. He groans again and Gabriel watches as black-purple threads begin to wend their way down his neck, over the tendons that stand out as he moves his head restlessly, and on past the dip of his collarbone. Gabriel pulls down the collar of Sam’s t-shirt, trying to follow the progress of the strange marks. When he can’t pull the tight fabric far enough, Gabriel reaches for a pair of scissors. He cuts directly up the front of the shirt, revealing the twisting tree-root pattern of dark lines that are now running down over Sam’s shoulder and across his chest.

A very small voice at the back of Gabriel’s head (which he ignores because it’s a really unprofessional voice and this is very, very much not the time) can’t help noting that the sight of Sam with his shirt off is quite something. Sam’s skin is pale gold, his chest broad and his whole body solidly muscled and sculpted like some kind of ridiculous classical statue. Gabriel glances down the length of his torso and feels his mouth go slightly dry at the jut of hipbones above worn jeans.

“Well?” Dean looks at him impatiently.

Gabriel jerks his head up and blinks, “It’s a spell.” He says, too quickly.

“Fucking witches!”

“Hmmm, nope, don’t think so. Doesn’t look right. This isn’t man-made or demon magic.” Gabriel takes out a bottle of disinfectant and continues to clean the bite carefully. “Also witches don’t usually bite,” he adds.

Before Dean can ask what else it could be, he glances up to see Castiel standing in the doorway of the infirmary. He looks concerned and disheveled, running a hand through unruly black hair. His eyes are focused on Sam, avoiding Dean, but they’re still as strikingly blue as they ever were. Something is welling up in Dean’s chest as he watches Castiel watch his brother. He clenches his jaw firmly; this is not the time; this is about as far from the time as it’s possible to get.

“How’s he doing?” Castiel asks Gabriel. Gabriel places a hand on Sam’s forehead, feeling heat and cold roiling under his skin. He frowns slightly, cocking his head to one side, as if he’s listening to something and chews on his lip. “He’s trying to fight off whatever this is but it’s strong. Getting stronger too.” He sighs. “It’s magic Cassie, a curse of some kind I think. I don’t know why but it’s really racing through him.”

They all look at Sam, still unconscious but moaning and twitching in his sleep.

“I don’t know what it is either but it’s old, and angry.” Castiel says thoughtfully, “It feels dry. Like it’s shriveling up?” He shrugs, “I don’t know. I couldn’t get a name or a real sense of what it wants.” They are silent for a moment and then he asks Gabriel, “Can you heal him?”

“I don’t know, but I can definitely try.” Gabriel answers.

“Heal him?” Dean asks, sounding wary.

“Gabriel is a brilliant healer Dean,” Castiel says, turning to look at him. “He is one of the most accomplished magical practitioners I have ever encountered. If anyone can help your brother it’s him.”

Dean looks unconvinced, “How is “magical practitioner” not just a fancy word for witch?” he asks, “You said magic’s what got him into this shit.”

Gabriel nods. “Yep, but there’s a lot of different kinds of magic out there Dean-o. There’s a big difference between what I do and what those sons-of-bitches do. To start with it’s got nothing to do with Demons. It’s 50% book learnin’ and 50% natural God-given talent,” he grins and flutters his eyelashes. “If I do say so myself.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Why should I trust you? Men of Letters never did shit for us.”

“You don’t have much choice, do you?” Castiel snaps, “Your brother is sick, a hospital won’t be able to help him and this isn’t something you can fix with cheap liquor and a darning needle.”

Dean glares at him, opens his mouth to retort but there is vehemence in Cas’s gaze and it makes him drop his eyes again. He looks down at his brother, watching Sam’s restless movements and the shiny pallor of his skin. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opens them he looks defeated. “Ok, whatever.” he says to Gabriel, “Do your thing, but it better fucking work.”

Gabriel places his hands on Sam’s forehead again, smoothing over the clammy skin under his fingertips. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the impression of the oily, poisonous curse running through Sam’s veins. “This is going to take a while.” Gabriel says after a moment, “It would really help if I knew what the hell it was that bit him.”

Dean and Castiel stand, watching intently until Gabriel opens his eyes and looks up at them. As Dean meets his gaze, it seems for a moment that Gabriel’s eyes are glowing faintly, as if lit from within by a warm, coppery light. He blinks and it’s gone. “That was your cue to go hit the books, kids.” Gabriel says, “Get out of here and let me work. Sam will be fine Dean - go help Cassie figure out how to fix this.” He adds, shoving Dean gently towards Castiel and out of the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean follows Castiel through the echoing corridors of the bunker. He pays little attention to the surroundings, he’s too busy watching Castiel through narrowed eyes. He seems just as uncomfortable as Dean feels; shoulders stiff and tight under his grey button-down and blue vest as he walks ahead, never looking back or waiting to see if Dean is keeping up with him. Dean’s hands clench and unclench absently, he can feel the muscle in his jaw jumping. The idea of leaving Sam’s welfare in someone else’s hands sets his teeth on edge and the fact that he has been forced to come back to the Men of Letters for help is just the icing on the cake.

Castiel walks ahead of Dean down through the echoing corridors to the library. He can feel the heat of his gaze on his back and he pretends to ignore it. The tension makes his shoulders ache but he doesn’t look back. He knows Dean is on edge; it can’t be easy for him, having to leave Sam in the care of a stranger, let alone being back here. The things he wants to say crowd against his lips but he bites his tongue and doesn’t turn; he knows that if he looks into those eyes for too long he will lose himself.

*

July 1995

_“Hey,” Dean said, smiling at the boy staring at them from the doorway to the kitchen. The boy blinked huge blue eyes and his lips twitched in a tiny, nervous smile, “Hello Dean.” he said, his voice was deeper than Dean expected._

_“Who’re you? How’d you know my name?” Dean asked. Another teenager was the last thing he expected to see in this place full of old things and old people._

_“My name is Castiel Novak.” The boy said, “I live here. You’re Dean Winchester, he’s your brother Sam.”_

_Dean raised an eyebrow, “Yeah? How’d you know?” he asked._

_Castiel shrugged, “I know lots of things. I live here.” He said again. His manner and speech seemed odd; overly formal but also oddly child-like. As if he were not used to people his own age._

_“So what? Are you one of them? The Men of Letters?” Dean asked._

_“I suppose so. I will be, anyway. Our parents were.”_

_“Our?”_

_“My brother and I. His name is Gabriel, he’s away at the moment.”_

_“Gabriel and Castiel? You really didn’t luck out in the name department huh?” Dean said and immediately regretted it when the boy looked hurt._

_“They’re angels.” Castiel said quietly, “Our parents studied angels so they named us for them.”_

_“Sorry man…I didn’t mean…it’s a cool name.”_

_Castiel looked at him, head on one side like he was trying to make up his mind about something. Dean shifted uncomfortably, feeling prickles of heat crawl over his skin. He was not used to being observed so minutely. Then the other boy smiled that small smile again and Dean felt inexplicably happy. “So,” He said, “If you live here you can show us around right? What do you do for fun here Cas?”_

_Castiel looked confused for a moment, whether at the nickname or the question. He shifted awkwardly, “Um…I guess…read?”_

_Dean raised his eyebrows, “Read? Is that it? Don’t you have TV? Video games?”_

_Cas shrugged, “Well yes, of course there is a TV but I prefer reading. There’s a lot of books and I have a lot to learn.” he said._

_“About what?”_

_“Magic, lore, creatures, spells.”_

_Dean sighed, “I hear that, I’m not great at that stuff. Think Sammy here might have the gift though.” He smiled indulgently at his brother who gave him a bitch-face but with a hint of pride underneath._

_“That’s good,” Cas continued, “maybe I can help you if you’re staying here?”_

_Dean frowned. “Don’t know how long we’re gonna be around man. Dad’s just here to get some info.”_

_Cas’s face fell, “Oh, well, just while you’re here then.” he said._

_“Well I’d rather have the tour first.” Dean said._

_Cas looked unsure, “The tour?” he repeated._

_“Of this place! It’s pretty cool; I bet there’s tons of awesome shit hidden away, right?”_

_Cas looked doubtful. “Well, there’s the libraries, the map room, and the garage and the storerooms and my room and the dungeon...”_

_“Sorry what? Back up Cas; you’ve got a fucking dungeon?” Dean exclaimed._

_Cas nodded, looking as if he wasn’t quite sure what the big deal was – didn’t everyone have a dungeon?_

_“Well what’re we waiting for Cas?”_

_*_

_To be honest the dungeon was a little disappointing, the coolest thing about it being the fact that it was hidden behind a false wall in a storage room. It was empty though, just a table and chair and a load of symbols and sigils; some of which Dean recognized and some he didn’t. “Sorry,” Cas said, as if it being dull was somehow his fault._

_“What for?” Dean said, “Not your fault there’s no monsters. It was my idea anyway.” He thought for a moment, leaning against the rough dungeon wall while Sam stared at the symbols and tried to read them under his breath, “Did you say there was a garage?” Dean asked._

_Cas nodded, “Any cool cars?” Dean asked._

_Cas shrugged, “They’re mostly really old.” he answered._

_Dean’s eyes lit up, “The term is “classic”, Cas.” He said, “Lead the way.”_

_*_

_The garage was anything but disappointing. There were a lot of cars in the huge, echoing art-deco hall, most of them from the 50’s and 60’s and all of them pristine and beautiful. Dean thought this might be what heaven was like. “Where’d they come from?” He asked Cas, running his palm over the curves of a Corvette. It had to be at least a ‘53 but it looked like it had just parked here yesterday, the baby blue paintwork untouched by rust or even dust._

_Cas frowned, “I’m not sure, they’ve been here as long as I can remember. I guess they belonged to members of the order once? No one seems to drive them now.”_

_Dean shook his head, “That is criminal.” He said, looking down the long room at the rest of the cars and motorcycles. Suddenly he realized that their car was there, parked in the far corner. John must have brought it in after they’d left him. He walked over to it, “Hey Cas, check it out! This is my Dad’s car. She’s a ‘67 Chevy Impala. Isn’t she beautiful?” He stood back, arms folded. “She looks good in here huh?”_

_Dean spun around and grinned, then stopped suddenly as Cas grinned back at him, all gums and perfect teeth and genuine, unguarded happiness; like Dean’s enthusiasm was the best thing he’d ever seen. Dean laughed, unable to stop himself and felt his insides do a kind of flip-flop. A voice in the back of his head yelled “Danger!” But he ignored it._

_*_

July 2005

Once they reach the library Castiel goes straight to the shelves without a word. Dean leans against one of the tall stone pillars, watching as he pulls ancient books out, piling them up in his arms, trying not to notice the way his shirt strains against the muscles in his arms and back.

“So what happened?” Castiel asks, not turning to face Dean. For a moment Dean is silent, Castiel can sense a wave of panic from him and he realizes that Dean is not thinking about the run-in with the monster but something else, something from a long time ago; he is holding his breath. Pretending not to notice, Castiel continues, “Where did you find it?”

Dean quietly lets out a deep, relieved breath. “Waconda Lake; ‘bout 30 kilometers out from here,” he begins, and Castiel can hear him trying to sound casual and like he wasn’t about ready to run the fuck away. “Sam read a report about something attacking people along the edge of the lake at night, biting them and causing some kind of weird infection that just drained the life out of them. The pictures of the bites showed those weird black marks. Knew it wasn’t any regular kind of animal so we went to check it out yesterday. Interviewed relatives, the coroner; the usual. Couldn’t find anyone who’d actual seen it, so we weren’t really sure what to expect. Went out there last night to have a look around and the fucking thing jumped him when my back was turned. It was fucking quick, never saw it coming. Before I knew what was happening it had torn a lump out of him and he was on the floor. I shot it but that did fuck all but slow it down. Managed to grab it before it ran.” He closes his eyes for a moment, “I was about to try and put another bullet in it but I realized Sammy was in trouble. Saw that black shit and I knew we were gonna have to take it alive. The reports we saw said the other victims went down pretty fast so I figured we didn’t have long. Cracked it over the head and managed to get the cuffs on it. It went fucking ballistic when it touched them though, so, whatever it is, it’s not a fan of iron. Got Sammy on his feet and somehow got him and it the fuck out of the woods, stuffed it in the trunk and this was the nearest place I could think of to come. Hoping like hell there’d be someone here.”

Castiel nods, looking thoughtful, “So you’ve got no idea what it is?”

Dean shakes his head, “Nope. Don’t know, don’t care. Figure I’ll make it tell me how to fix Sam the old fashioned way.” He grabs the dungeon keys from the table where Castiel left them.

Castiel raises an eyebrow, dropping an armful of books on the table. He wrinkles his nose at the small cloud of dust that rises up. “And what might that be?” He asks.

Dean grins, a cold smile full of teeth. It is so unlike the boy he remembers that it makes Castiel shiver. “Enhanced persuasion.” He answers.

“Typical Hunter solution.” Castiel says, disappointed. “Shoot first, ask questions later.”

Dean looks almost ashamed for a split second before he scowls, anger rising up to smother his embarrassment, “Oh there’ll be questions now, trust me.” He says. “I’d just rather get to work than sit around in this dusty tomb waiting to find the one book in thousands that might help, while my brother’s life is in the hands of some he-witch and I can’t do anything to help.”

“Gabriel is a great healer.” Castiel shoots back, “You’re lucky he was here to help your brother, but, as he said, it will help him to know what he’s fighting. Research is the best way to be sure, I know what I’m doing, and if we work together we could have an answer before you’ve finished tightening your thumbscrews. There’s no guarantee you can find a way to “persuade” it before it’s too late and how will you even know if it’s telling the truth?”

Dean smiles the shark smile again, “Oh I’ll know.” he says.

Castiel swallows hard but he is still angry. “This is about helping Sam at the moment, not getting revenge. Or are you so much your father’s son now?” He says bitterly and regrets it almost the moment the words leave his mouth. Dean looks up at him and his eyes are brighter than they should be, his jaw is clenched.

“Fuck you Cas”, he says quietly and he turns and walks out of the room.

It’s the first time Castiel has heard that nickname in ten years.


	4. Chapter 4

JULY 2005

Dean storms down the corridor for at least a minute before he realizes he has no idea where he’s going. He stops and stands, looking around himself and quietly fuming. There is no fucking way he’s going back to the library to ask Cas for directions.

His pulse is thumping, he can feel it in his neck and he realizes that he is clenching his teeth so hard he’s giving himself a headache.

He sighs and leans against the pale green tiles, dropping his head back. This is already everything he was afraid of; coming back here was a mistake. In the car he’d managed to convince himself it would be ok, that Cas might not even be at the bunker anymore and anyway, he wouldn’t remember Dean.

That theory had been blown out of the water the moment he’d laid eyes on him. He might have been dragging a monster and his semi-conscious brother but the moment he saw those blue eyes every detail of that day came thundering back, the memories almost overwhelming him.

Then Cas had asked him what happened and all of a sudden he was about to spill every thought and feeling he’d been holding back, the urge to blurt it all out was terrifying and out of control. When he realized Cas was talking about the hunt, he’d never been more relieved and disappointed in his life.

He takes a deep breath and screws his eyes closed, partly to try and clear his head and partly in an attempt to picture the way they had walked to the Dungeon all those years ago.

*

 

JULY 1995 

_“So can you do actual magic and shit?” Dean asked Cas as they wandered down another one of the apparently identical corridors._

_Castiel looked at him, his mouth twitching in amusement, “I’m not sure exactly what’s covered by “and shit”? But yes, some.” He admitted._

_Dean whistled, “But you’re not a witch?” He asked, confused._

_Castiel shook his head, “No. The power we have comes from ancient spells, from the earth and stuff like that. No demons, no Hex bags.” He explained._

_“Huh. Didn’t even know that was a thing.” Dean said, “Thought all magic was bad. Guess it’s just all the witches we deal with. I fucking hate witches dude.” He admitted._

_Cas smiled, “Yeah from what I’ve read they sound pretty repulsive.” He agreed, “There’s really very few bodily fluids involved in the magic I do.”_

_Dean looked at him in surprise and laughed. Cas flushed, a pink flush spreading across his cheeks, “Well I know that witches…their spells use a lot of blood and saliva and…” He stopped, his ears turning bright red, “You know, stuff.”_

_“Yeah, aint that the truth. It’s down-right unsanitary.” Dean shuddered in agreement._

_“So you’ve actually met some?” Cas asked._

_“Too many.” Dean said, “Fought one not too long back, with my Dad in New Orleans. That sucked out loud.” He thought back to the horrible bags of teeth and bones, the woman coughing up pins and blood all over the place. His skin threatened to crawl off his bones at the memory._

_Sam looked at his brother, “You didn’t fight her.” He scoffed, “Dad did. You just found the hex bag.”_

_Dean flushed and punched his brother in the shoulder, “Shut up Sammy. What woulda happened if I hadn’t huh?” It was very hard to impress anyone with an annoying little brother following you around. He looked back at Cas, “He doesn’t know shit.” He explained with a grin, “He just hid in the car.”_

_Sam glared at his brother and shoved past them to walk ahead._

_“Don’t get lost!” Dean called after him, feeling an edge of panic begin to rise. Sam flipped him off behind his back and disappeared around a corner, “Sam!”_

_“He’ll be ok.” Castiel re-assured Dean, laying a hand on his arm, “It looks like a maze but it’s really pretty hard to get lost here.”_

_Dean took a shaky deep breath, trying not to let Cas see and nodded. They walked on in silence for a while, before Cas spoke again, “So you hunt with your Dad?” He asked._

_Dean shrugged, “Yeah sometimes. Mostly I look out for Sammy while Dad hunts, but he’s getting older now, he can look out for himself. So I’ve been helping out here and there.” He smiled, “I know a bit of Latin and I’m pretty handy with a shotgun.”_

_A look passed over Cas’s face that Dean couldn’t quite identify, his eyes were suddenly a lot wider and seemed a lot darker. His pink tongue swiped over his bottom lip quickly. When he spoke again his voice was rough for a moment before he cleared his throat. “So how long have you been hunters?”_

_Dean’s expression changed from one of slightly flirty pride to something darker. “Too long.” He said and then laughed awkwardly, embarrassed by his own words. “Um you know,” he continued airily, desperate to play down his unguarded answer. “Dad’s been a hunter since I was about 4? Raised us in the life so…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say. Usually he would leave it at that but for some reason he kept speaking. “Our mom died.” He said quietly, “A demon...” He looked down, not wanting to meet Cas’s eyes but unable to stop telling him their story. “That’s why we’re here.” He continued, “Dad’s got some intel and he’s hoping the Men of Letters can help us find the son-of-a-bitch.”_

_Cas said nothing, just watched the boy’s downcast face, watched his plush lips turn white where his teeth dragged over them._

_“If they can give us what we need to take the bastard out then maybe…maybe we can…I dunno. Go back to how it was? Before Dad got so…” Dean shrugged and looked uncomfortable, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t wanna get the son of a bitch too y’know. Just…” Dean stopped, clearing his throat as he felt his voice start to give. He had no idea where this was coming from. It made him sound like he didn’t want to be a hunter. He looked up and flashed Cas a brilliant but empty smile, “Well, fingers crossed huh?” He said._

_Cas smiled back weakly, there was a weird physical ache in his chest as he looked at Dean’s wide, brittle smile. He didn’t know what to say; he just wanted to be able to make it better. What the hell did that mean? He wanted to reach out to him, tell him it would be ok and have Dean believe him. After only hours together he felt closer to Dean than he ever had to anyone before and it was beginning to scare him. “I hope we can help you Dean.” He said quietly, feeling completely useless._

*

July 2005

Eventually Dean opens the door to one of the mostly identical small store rooms and sees the large metal bookcase that he remembers hiding the doorway to the dungeon. He runs his hands over the books absently as he tries to remember which one opens the door, his fingers leave trails in the dust. He smiles when he sees the one book which is less dusty than the others – Paradise Lost. He pulls on the spine, placing his fingers over the marks where years of other hands have done the same. The door swings open and he finds himself in a familiar small antechamber leading to the other iron door that leads to the dungeon room. He stands, watching the creature through the tiny barred window. He pulls a short, iron knife out of his boot and spins the dully gleaming blade between his fingers as he watches. The creature doesn’t look at him; he wonders if it knows he’s there.

He grips the knife tighter, he wants to get his hands on the heap of rags and nightmare that sits on the other side. As he reaches out and pushes at the rough, heavy door he hears Castiel’s voice comparing him to his father; as if Cas understood what that meant. Except he does, doesn’t he? More than a lot of others do. Dean leans his head against the door for a moment and then, takes a breath, unlocks it and walks in.

The creature raises its head slowly when he enters. It hisses quietly when it sees the short, ugly knife in Dean’s hand but it stares at him defiantly with its unblinking eye.

Dean walks over to it and holds the knife close to its face, close enough to almost touch the flayed surface of its skin. The huge eye watches him warily. “What have you done to my brother?” Dean asks in a low voice. Then he shakes his head, “Actually, you know what? I don’t care. Fix him now and I might kill you quickly.”

It looks unimpressed, regarding him darkly, drawing back its lipless mouth over sharp teeth that drip blood. Dean can’t tell whether it even knows how to speak but he knows it understands him. He presses the grey edge of the iron blade against its throat and it hisses louder, a seething, writhing sound. It spits blood at him and he ignores it, pressing harder. The raw flesh burns, crackling and bubbling around the blade, the hiss rises to a wet, wordless shriek and it tries to twist itself away. He ignores the bile that rises in his throat at the smell of burning meat and clamps a hand to the wet cloth that covers the back of its neck, dragging it back toward the knife. “Tell me how to fix him.” He says, leaning over, his lips close to where he presumes its ears would be. He tries not to open his mouth as he speaks, resists the urge to gag or turn away. Hides his disgust under anger.

“No.” It says, the single word bursting from its throat in a wet choke, “He is already dead.” Its mouth twists into a smile that makes Dean’s skin crawl.

Rage at his inability to help his brother and the return of the emotions he thought he’d left behind a decade ago boils inside Dean. His patience; thin as it is, snaps. “Then what do we need you for?” He whispers, stabbing the knife through its thin arm. It cries out again, flailing and thrashing, trying desperately to reach him with its teeth. He leans back, grinning as it struggles, smoke curling from the wound as he twists the knife. He pulls his arm back, dragging the knife out and aiming it for the creature’s chest.

At that moment someone grabs his arm from behind, squeezing hard. The knife falls from his fingers and clatters onto the concrete floor. He spins angrily, glaring at Cas who stands behind him, his hand still gripping Dean’s wrist. “What the fuck are you doing?” He yells.

“Stopping you from doing something stupid.” Cas answers. “We need it alive Dean. I told you, we will find out what it is, whether it co-operates or not. Kill it now and Sam could die.”

“You don’t know that! That could be what breaks the spell.”

Cas looks at him and sighs, “It could be.” He concedes, “Or it could be the end of Sam.”

Dean swallows and lets out a shuddering breath. They are both silent for a moment. He breathes heavily, trying to ignore the voice in his head that says that Cas is right, that he could have condemned his brother with nothing more than a momentary loss of control. He can’t bring himself to admit it so he rips his arm from Cas’s grasp and spins on his heel, storming from the room.

Cas watches him go, picks up the knife and follows him, slamming and locking the dungeon door behind him without giving the creature a second glance.

*

In the infirmary Gabriel stands over Sam, moving his hands slowly, skimming gently, just over the surface of his skin, feeling the greasy, black poison threading through his veins. It’s moving fast but he can’t tell what it wants. Without knowing what the creature is he has no idea how to expel the venom or curse or whatever it is. The best he can hope for now is a temporary fix.

He places his fingers near the jagged wound in Sam’s neck and focuses his attention on drawing the darkness towards him. He imagines himself pulling it back toward the wound, checking its spread. He can feel the magic coursing through his body, a gentle light like liquid gold that winds its way out of his hands and into Sam’s shoulder, spiraling off under his skin.

Suddenly he almost jumps back as he feels a brilliant golden tendril reach out towards him from deep inside Sam, reacting to his presence. It feels pleased to see him, as if it recognizes him. He can’t stop himself from grinning as he feels an answering light within himself twist around it. Oh. He was really not expecting that.

He feels the inky poison begin to recede, fighting him all the way but for now he’s too strong for it. It will come back soon though, and it will be stronger, but at least if he can slow it down it might give Cassie a chance to find a more permanent answer.

He opens his eyes as it slinks back into the shadows and a slight chill glides over his skin as the golden tether fades as well, but it doesn’t break. The residual power causes his eyes to glow gold and when Sam opens his own eyes with a gasp, there are faint flecks of gold in the hazel that may not have been there a moment ago. “What the…” Sam murmurs, “Dean!”

Gabriel smiles, “Hey Sasquatch. It’s ok, your brother’s off making himself useful. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Sam looks up into warm amber eyes and an attractive, open face with a slightly crooked smile. He has no idea what’s going on but oddly, he doesn’t feel afraid; he feels slightly like he’s floating. “Who’re you? Where’m I?” He asks, frowning when the words slur and run together.

“I’m Gabriel Novak; healer extraordinaire and you’re at the Men of Letters HQ. Your brother brought you here because you got bit by something nasty.” He gestures to the bite mark, Sam twists his head, trying to see and winces when the edges of the wound pull. “Don’t worry kiddo, we’re gonna figure out what it was and fix you up.” Gabriel finishes with a reassuring smile.

Sam frowns, “I remember, we were in the woods, and then ow…and…the car and Dean was pissed and…” He stops, feeling woozy and tired, like he’s falling into a space behind his own eyes. “He said we’d have to go back. Didn’t think he’d ever go back. It’s been a long time since…” He looks up at Gabriel, eyes suddenly sharp and narrowed in confusion. “I don’t remember you. I remember this place, I think, but don’t remember you.”

Gabriel smiles, “I think we missed each other the first time round. I was away. I heard all about it though.”

Sam smiles vaguely, his eyes becoming slightly unfocused again. “Wish I had met you before; you’re cute.”

Gabriel snorts with laughter, feeling a blush spread over his cheeks, “Well thanks kiddo, you’re not too bad yourself, but how old were you then? 12? I was 19; would’ve been a bit of a disturbing age gap, don’tcha think?” He grins.

Sam laughs softly in sleepy agreement, “But I’m 23 now. That’s better, huh?”

Gabriel pats his shoulder gently, “Suppose it would be,” he agrees, “If I wasn’t 30.”

Sam makes a dismissive sound and reaches an unsteady hand up to caress the curve of Gabriel’s jaw, calloused fingers dragging over light stubble. Gabriel closes his eyes; this is really not what he should be doing. No matter how hot he is, Sam is definitely not entirely compos-mentis. Gabriel smiles gently and takes hold of Sam’s hand, placing it back on his chest.

“Rain check Sammy. Let’s wait ‘til you’re firing on all cylinders. Ok?”

Sam hums happily and nods, eyelids drooping.

*

Back in the library, Dean and Cas sit in uncomfortable silence, poring over the dusty volumes that Cas dragged off the shelves, pretending to concentrate. They are separated by a huge stack of books and each trying their hardest to focus on the words in front of them.

Cas watches Dean out of the corner of his eye. He watches the muscle in his jaw tick as he stares at the book under his fingers. He watches his fingers drum impatiently on the wooden surface. He hears his foot tap against the floor, shaking the table slightly. His nervous energy is distracting, it makes him want to grab Dean and hold him until he stills.

Dean’s mind is racing; he needs to concentrate on finding a cure for Sam but his gaze keeps flicking back to Cas. He can still feel the ache in his wrist where Cas’s fingers gripped him. He is angry, at Cas and at himself. He knows Cas is right, they need the creature alive and his willingness to kill it, simply out of frustration, scares him when he thinks about it now. Being back in this place is messing with him.

He finds his attention rapt by the way Cas’s fingers curl in his dark hair, twisting idly. A rush of familiarity at the sight of his long, dark eyelashes fanned out against his cheek as he looks down at his book. Sometimes he catches him looking at him, blue eyes lock with his before he looks away hurriedly. If he looks too long he will lose it.

The air in the library feels chilly and over-processed. Dean’s eyes are dry and itchy after the long drive, when he tries to focus they keep sliding away from the page. His head hurts, he is probably de-hydrated; he hasn’t eaten or drunk anything since this morning. He sucks in a breath and sits up straighter. He needs to concentrate on his brother, there will be time to deal with whatever else is going on afterwards. Or perhaps there won’t, perhaps it would be better if there weren’t.

*

Gabriel walks into the library just as Cas’s eyes meet Dean’s and flick away for the hundredth time. The atmosphere in the room is like walking through honey; thick, intense and cloying. Gabriel can almost hear the unspoken words. He sighs. “He’s awake.” He says loudly, clapping his hands and causing both men to look up, startled. “Well actually he’s asleep.” He corrects himself, dropping into a chair at the end of the long table and propping his feet up, ignoring Cas’s annoyed frown, “But it is just sleep, he’s not unconscious.”

Dean grins at him, “You cured him?” he says. Gabriel shakes his head sadly, “‘fraid not Dean-o. It’s only temporary. I’ll keep it at bay as long as I can but it’s not a permanent fix.”

Dean’s face falls, “How’re we gonna make it permanent?” he asks.

Gabriel spreads his hands towards Cas and the teetering pile of books, “Find out what bit him for starters. Any luck yet?”

Cas sighs and closes his eyes, tipping his head back and stretching his neck with an audible crunch. He pushes his arms out behind him until his shoulders pop and shakes his head, “Working on it.”

Gabriel can’t help noticing the way Dean’s eyes fix on the thin line of tan midriff revealed as Cas lifts his arms, and the tiny flicker of tongue as he licks his lips unconsciously. Gabriel smirks, “Well get back to it then, or am I going to have to separate you?”

Cas and Dean give him matching indignant, confused looks and he rolls his eyes, “Yeah, keep telling yourselves that.” He says, “Clock’s ticking boys. I suggest you try and reign in the UST for the time being.” He turns, looking back with a grin as he walks away, “I’ll come and find you when he’s awake.”

Dean and Cas exchange looks as Gabriel walks off, each trying to convey with a glance that Gabriel is crazy and neither of them have any idea what he’s talking about. The fact that they end up staring at each other for several seconds longer than is really necessary, rather ruins the effect.

*

JULY 1995

_Dean and Cas’s aimless wondering of the bunker’s halls eventually led them to the shooting range. They stood in the doorway of the darkened room for a moment looking in. The room was basic, a large empty space with small booths at one end and a series of wooden targets at the other. A locked, metal gun cabinet was mounted on one wall. Ear defenders and goggles hung on pegs by each booth._

_“You shoot?” Dean asked._

_Cas shook his head, “Not really. My brother does a bit, he’s snuck me down here a couple of times to have a go but I’m not much good. No one will give me proper lessons yet.” He sighs, “I think they think it’s somehow vulgar for a man of letters to use weapons instead of magic.”_

_Dean snorted, “Yeah well vulgarity’s never really been my number one concern when there’s a Werewolf or some shit running at me.” He walks into the room, “Come on, I’ll show you.”_

_Hesitantly Cas follows him, flicking on the light switches. Strip lights flutter on down the length of the room. Dean walks over to one of the booths and takes a pair of ear defenders and goggles off the wall, handing them to Cas. He puts a pair on himself, leaving one ear uncovered and the goggles on his head, reaches into the inside of his coat and pulls out a large, nickel plated handgun. Cas’s eyes widen as he puts it down on the ledge in front of them._

_The gun gleams. The florescent lighting highlights the swirls of engraving along the barrel and the glow of the mother of pearl handgrip. Cas stares at it, wondering at the beauty of something meant to destroy._

_Dean picks up the weapon and hands it to Cas, who takes it carefully, afraid but trying not to show it. It is heavy and solid in his hand as he tests the weight._

_“It’s a Colt M1911A1.” Dean says, “My dad gave it to me.” He adds with a touch of pride._   
_“It’s beautiful.” Castiel says and feels embarrassed because that’s probably not how you’re supposed to describe a gun._

_Dean flushes and smiles, “Thanks.” He mumbles. “You want to try it?” He asks._

_Cas nods, Dean pushes the ear defenders onto his ears, slips the goggles over his eyes and reaches over to flick the safety off. He grins at Cas, “Go on then cowboy, let’s see what you’ve got.”_

_Cas rolls his eyes and pulls down his goggles, straightens his back, holding the gun out in front of him, one finger on the trigger and the other hand underneath, cupping the handgrip. Dean steps aside, watching as Cas squares his shoulders and takes aim. He is tense and awkward, afraid of the weapon. Dean remembers when he used to feel the same._

_Cas fires and the muzzle flies up, recoil slams his shoulder back. Splinters fly and there is a hole in the wooden target, way off center. He winces, rubbing his wrist. Dean reaches over and carefully takes the gun, slipping the safety back on._

_“Can I show you something?” He asks, lifting one ear of Cas’s defenders. Cas nods and Dean hands the gun back to him. Cas starts to move into the same stance and Dean moves behind him, reaching around his shoulders to move the hand that sits beneath the handgrip up, next to the firing hand. “Try and put equal pressure on both sides,” he says, he moves his hand to Cas’s dominant arm, “Keep this one straight but relaxed,” he says, squeezing his forearm gently. Cas shudders a little and unthinking, Dean drops his hand to his waist, steadying him. Cas inhales sharply and suddenly Dean realizes how close they are, how the warm scent of Cas’s hair fills his nose, how his breath moves the hair on the back of Cas’s neck, the heat radiating from the body in front of him._

_He swallows hard and moves back a step, feeling Cas’s shoulders sag as he retreats, is that relief or regret? Or both?_

_“Relax your shoulders dude.” He says, clearing his throat. “Bend the other arm a little, keep your legs apart, that one back a bit. You need to feel solid on your feet, ok? Bend your knees a bit, find your center of gravity.”_

_Cas follows his instructions carefully and when Dean is happy he smiles and taps him on the shoulder, “Go for it.” He says, replacing Cas’s ear defenders carefully._

_Cas smiles, takes aim and fires. This time the hole appears almost in the center of the target. He clicks on the safety and put the gun down carefully before turning to grin at Dean._

_Dean is much closer than he was expecting and Cas jumps slightly as he turns. They stare at each other. Dean knows he should say something but he’s transfixed by those ridiculous blue eyes and that smile. It is too long before he says, “Nice job dude.” and takes back his gun._


	5. Chapter 5

JULY 2005

In the infirmary Sam is beginning to stir again. His eyelids flutter and he groans in pain. He reaches up to where he feels his skin burning, touches the dressing and pulls his fingers away quickly with a hiss. His eyes open wider and he tries to sit up, “What…?” he asks himself groggily, his voice sounds rough and weak.

He winces again when he tries to put his weight on his arm. He seems to be lying on some sort of table, he can feel the hard steel against his skin. He appears to be topless, or at least mostly; the remnants of what was his t-shirt hang open at his sides.

The room is not exactly homely. The walls are tiled, white and shining, and every few feet there are white pillars with magical protection sigils inlaid in shining brass. Apart from these unusual touches the room looks clinical and old fashioned, like some of the older abandoned asylums where he and Dean have spent some fun nights being thrown into walls. It is, however, thankfully cleaner and it feels…oddly comforting.

Just as he is about to try and gather the mental acuity to get to his feet, the door opens and a short man with longish sandy hair and very intense, but warm, amber colored eyes walks in. He looks familiar but Sam can’t quite place him. The man smiles when he sees him but walks over and puts his hand on Sam’s chest, pushing him back gently.

“Nope, no walking for you Sam.” He says, “Not yet. Glad you’re feeling up to trying though.”

Sam frowns, he wants to say he’s not sure he’s really feeling up to anything but there are more pressing questions on his lips. “Who are you?” He asks.

The other man smiles, “I’m Gabriel, you’re Sammy, we’ve been over this already kiddo. I’m a little insulted you don’t remember, to be honest. I thought we had a moment.”

Sam blinks and suddenly remembers a feeling of warmth and healing and this man’s hands on him and this man’s voice soothing him and a golden light that seemed to be everywhere around him and…inside him. He starts to say thank you, to ask how Gabriel was able to heal him and then he’s hit by another memory. Did he…? Oh god, did he flirt with the guy? Because, ok, Gabriel is gorgeous, but did he really have to choose the moment when he was covered in his own blood, barely able to stand and dangerously close to throwing up everywhere to hit on the hot doctor – or whoever this guy is?

Sam only realizes that he is pretty much just staring at Gabriel with his mouth open when the other man waves a hand in front of his face. “You ok in there Sammy?” He asks, grinning and looking like he knows exactly what Sam is thinking.

“Don’t call me Sammy.” Sam manages, attempting to hide his crushing embarrassment with annoyance. Gabriel only grins, “Ok Sasquatch.” He says, turning away to rifle through one of the steel drawers that line the wall to the side of the room. Sam frowns at the back of Gabriel’s head because he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to be called Sasquatch either but he decides he doesn’t have the energy to argue.

Gabriel turns back to see the tail-end of a confused bitch-face from Sam. He tries very hard not to laugh; healers really shouldn’t laugh at their patients. It is extremely hard when he remembers the look of dawning mortification on the guy’s face though. Perhaps he should be upset that the memory of flirting with him seems to fill Sam with a certain amount of horror but in fact he’s just charmed; the guy is kind of adorable.

“So what, I’m just supposed to lie on this slab for the foreseeable future?” Sam asks, sounding more petulant than he would have liked.

Gabriel chews on his lip; Sam has a point. The infirmary was designed for emergencies, not long convalescences and much as he’s hoping it won’t be too long, lying on a cold steel table is probably not going to help.

“No.” he says decisively, as if he’d been planning it all along. “You can have one of the rooms, I’m gonna go clean one up and set up some stuff then we’ll move you.” He turns back to the door, “I won’t be long, just don’t go getting up without me. You’ve already lost a lot of blood between here and the doormat and I really don’t want you falling over and losing the rest on my clean floor. Ok?” Sam nods sheepishly and Gabriel smiles, “Ok. I’m gonna let your brother and Cas know you’re awake.”

Sam looks surprised. “Cas? Castiel?” That was a blast from the past. He’d almost forgotten that name, stopped mentioning it years ago, once he realized all it would get him was a smack and a growled; “Shut the hell up Sammy”.

“Yep. My little brother.” Gabe answers, “You remember him huh? That’s good. You should tell your stupid brother to admit he remembers too; the pining between those two is getting painful.”

Sam laughs, a short wheezing sound that quickly turns into a cough, “Oh he remembers.” He says when he catches his breath, “I don’t think he ever really forgot. He tried pretty damn hard though. It’s gonna take him a while.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Oh god give me strength! Well, at least you’re not emotionally stunted, eh Sammy?

Sam gives him a serious bitch-face as a blush heats up his skin.

* 

JULY 1995

_Sam, Dean and Cas stood outside the library where John and the others were meeting. Light seeped from under the rarely closed door and they could hear muffled voices from inside but no one was showing any signs of coming out._

_They had found Sam again, sitting on the kitchen table stuffing more cookies into his face. They spent the rest of the day exploring the apparently never-ending bunker together, marveling at the sheer scale of the place. The hundreds of rooms full of god knew what, the towering ceilings and vast spaces._

_Cas had become more and more at ease as the day went on, enjoying the novelty of having visitors closer to his own age, being able to show off his home to people who actually understood the world he lived in._

_He tried not to think about the feeling of Dean’s body pressed up against his, the warmth of his arms wrapped around his shoulders, his hand on his waist. It was innocent, he was certain. Dean was not flirting with him. Why on Earth would he? Dean was gorgeous, he could have any woman, or man, he wanted. Cas was awkward and odd and his eyes were too big and.…_

_They were standing in front of the door to the library and, without thinking, Cas rested his fingertips gently against the heavy mahogany and watched with his eyes closed. “They’re still talking,” he said, “Your dad doesn’t look that happy Dean. Naomi is being patronizing as usual.” He watched in silence for a moment. “It doesn’t sound like they’re going to be finished anytime soon though.”_

_Dean stared at Cas as he opened his eyes and stepped away from the door. “What the hell?” He asked._

_Cas immediately flushed, shoving his hand behind his back. “Umm that was ‘and shit’, I think?” He said._

_Dean looked at him for a moment, eyebrows raised, and then laughter bubbled up in his chest and Cas smiled in relief._

_“Touché.” Dean grinned._

_“What are we going to do?” Sam asked._

_Dean sighed. It looked like John had forgotten about them he thought, and immediately felt guilty. John was busy, this stuff was important to him and it wasn’t like they were on their own._

_Cas noticed the slight crestfallen expression that passed over Dean’s face before he raised his chin and smiled at his brother._

_As they wondered what to do Rose appeared around the corner. “Hello again! I see you found each other?” She said, gesturing at Cas. She looked at the closed door. “Your dad still in there?”_

_Dean nodded._

_“Hmm,” she looked at her watch, “It’s getting pretty late, you guys are going to have to stay here tonight I think.” She started off down the corridor before they could argue, “Come on, let’s find you a couple of rooms.”_

_They all looked at each other in confusion, but Dean found himself drawn to follow her. He really didn’t want to be back on the road tonight, maybe they could convince his father to let them stay. He shrugged at Sam and went after Rose._

_Cas followed behind them, his heart racing slightly at the idea of having the brothers stay the night. Maybe they might stay longer?_

_*_

_After some wandering and opening and closing of doors, Rose managed to find three unoccupied rooms that were not too shabby and dust-covered. “Sorry, all the rooms are singles.” She said to the brothers. “So, unless you two want to share a bed you’re going to have to have separate rooms. Is that ok?”_

_Dean opened his mouth and then shut it. He wanted more than anything to say no. He couldn’t remember what it was like to not share a room and the idea of sleeping alone, without being able to hear his brother and father breathing, the thought of waking and not being able to see them, suddenly terrified him._

_However, every way he could think of to say no made it sound like he was afraid to be alone. He looked at his brother who was giving him his very best pleading puppy dog eyes and sighed. They would be ok, it was just one night after all. He told himself that would be good for Sam to have a bit of time to himself. “Ok Sammy,” he said finally, “But I’m just next door and Dad’s gonna be right down the hall ok? Just yell if you need us.”_

_Sam grinned and ran over to fling himself at the bed, landing with a grunt, the frame protesting audibly. “Don’t wreck the fucking place, we’ve only just got here.” Dean said but he couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth._

_“Yeah, yeah, go on Dean, get out of my room.” Sam said with an imperious wave of his hand, stretching out on the bed like a gangly starfish._

_“Whatever, bitch.” Dean replied, turning to leave._

_“Jerk!” Sam called after him cheerfully, picking up the remote to turn the ancient TV on._

_Dean rolled his eyes at Cas who looked a little confused._

_Rose smiled, “Well I guess you’re fine then. I’ll let your Dad know what’s happening when the meeting’s over. Castiel, you’ll help them if they need anything, right?” She asked._

_Castiel nodded, “Of course.” He replied. Rose smiled, waving over her shoulder as she walked back the way they’d come._

_Dean opened the door to the room next to Sam’s, it was more or less identical, smallish, with a pale green threadbare carpet, a fairly large single bed and a suite of old, dark wood furniture that had seen better days. A TV just as old as the one in Sam’s room stood on top of some drawers._

_The room was dark even with the light on, the bulb was dusty, the light warm but weak. There were no windows but a small vent near the ceiling let air in from somewhere._

_Dean walked in and looked around, sitting down on the bed. His face split into a huge grin when he sank onto the soft mattress. It was nothing like the usual shitty motel mattresses with their booby-trap springs that stabbed you in unexpected places while you slept._

_“It’s called memory foam,” Cas said, watching him press his hands down into it._

_Dean looked up at the other boy standing self-consciously in the doorway, watching him. “You can come in you know.” He said with a smile._

_Cas looked startled, rubbing his hands over his jeans as he walked nervously into the room._

_Dean rolled his shoulders and shifted up the bed to lean against the polished wooden headboard, legs stretched out across the pale beige blankets. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV._

_Castiel stood by the side of the bed, watching Dean and feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Should he sit? Was that ok? Did Dean even really want him here? Was he just being polite? Castiel had absolutely zero frame of reference for this situation._

_While Cas hovered, a million thoughts running through his head, Dean began undoing his bootlaces, pushing his heavy boots off to thump onto the wooden floor. He sighed deeply, wiggling his feet in his thin socks and groaning in pleasure. “Oh God, I think I’m gonna need to stay here forever Cas,” he sighed. As soon as the words had left his mouth Dean was hit by the realization that the chances of them staying any longer than one night were pretty damn remote. It might have been a joke but he was already beginning to imagine what it would be like to think of this place as home. He could have his own space, his own room, his own friend. His smile faltered. “Wishful thinking I guess.” He said with an empty laugh._

_Cas’s watched him silently, holding his breath. He knew Dean was joking, but he hadn’t been prepared for the surge of happiness he felt on hearing those words._

_*_

July 2005

“Nuckelavee!” Castiel suddenly exclaims, jabbing his finger at the book he’s been staring at for what seems like hours.

Dean looks up in surprise, “Gesundheit.”

“No. Look, here - Nuckelavee! It’s a Scottish water Fae. One eye, lots of teeth, no skin and when it attacks people it causes a wasting disease.”

Dean gets up and comes to stand behind Cas, reading over his shoulder. “Jackpot.” He says. “It’s Scottish? Did it get fucking lost?”

Cas shrugs, “Normally I’d say that was unusual but these days it seems like there aren’t many boundaries for supernatural creatures. I had a hunter on the phone yesterday who was tracking a Tartalo in New Jersey.”

Dean raises his eyebrows, “Huh, weird.” He carries on reading, “So, how do we kill the fucker?”

Cas sighs, “Not sure yet. This literally just mentions that they exist; doesn’t really say much else. I need to get some more books.” He gets up and walks further down the library.

Dean rolls his eyes and follows him, “Fae?” He says, “That’s like a fairy right?”

Cas nods, “Yes, but they are generally pretty far from the benevolent creatures of popular culture.” He explains, “Many Fae are extremely malevolent and cruel.”

“Huh. So no little glowing naked chicks with wings?”

Cas smiles, “Sometimes.” He admits, “But they are rather in the minority.”

Dean sighs, “Shame. Figures though. Why is nothing ever as good as people hope?”

Castiel looks at him, “Some things are, Dean. Good things do happen.”

“That hasn’t been my experience Cas.”


	6. Chapter 6

JULY 1995

_Cas watched Dean carefully out of the corner of his eye. He was staring at the TV, apparently lost in thought. Cas felt like he ought to say something but he had no idea what. He was just debating if he should just quietly leave the room when Dean turned to him. “You hungry Cas?” He asked._

_Um, yes, I could eat,” Cas said._

_“Cool. Gonna help me raid the kitchen?” Dean raised an eyebrow and grinned._

_Castiel nodded, getting up and opening the door. Dean followed, banging on the door to his brother’s room as they passed, “Sammy! We’re getting food. You want in?”_

_“Yeah, make me a sandwich!” Sam called back._

_Dean rolled his eyes, “Seriously? God you’re a lazy shit.” he said but he was smiling as he followed Cas down the hall._

_*_

_Luckily the kitchen was still deserted. The surfaces were bare now, cookies put away somewhere out of sight. Castiel opened the fridge, staring blankly at the contents, trying to focus. “What do you want to eat?” he asked Dean._

_Dean stood behind him and looked over his shoulder. “Hmm, don’t know, what you got?” he murmured, his breath moving the hair on the back of Cas’s neck. Castiel held his breath, the memory of the gun range echoing in his head. He gripped the edge of the fridge door tighter. Warmth radiated from Dean’s body like sunlight on his back. He thought about turning around, about how close Dean was to him, how his body would feel pressed against him. He felt like even breathing now would give away all the thoughts in his head._

_Dean grinned all of a sudden and pointed into the depths of the fridge. Hidden behind the half-finished jars and bottles and wrapped packages of leftovers was a six pack of beer. Cas frowned when he saw it, “I don’t know Dean, it’s not mine,” he said._

_Dean reached around him, one hand resting lightly on his hip for a second as he dragged the beer out of the fridge. All of Cas’s focus was suddenly on that touch, on the gentle pressure of Dean’s fingers against him. “Yeah I guessed that Cas.” Dean was saying. “It is now though.” Dean passed the beer to Cas and resumed rifling through the fridge. Cas stood to one side, shifting nervously, still focused on the lingering warmth where Dean had touched him and on the sight of Dean’s ass as he leaned into the fridge._

_Dean found some ham and cheese, mayo and a bottle of soda, piling it up in his arms and closing the door with his foot as he turned. “Gonna make Sammy a sandwich. You want one?” he asked._

_Castiel shook his head, not trusting his voice. Strangely he wasn’t that hungry anymore. It might have had something to do with the fact that his stomach was currently full of butterflies._

_Dean shrugged, searching through cupboards. “Suit yourself. My sandwiches are awesome though, just so you know.”_

_Dean began to assemble Sam’s sandwich, humming to himself as he worked. A terrified, excited buzz flooded through Cas as he watched him. He took a deep breath and leaned back against the counter, willing the cold metal to cool his over-heated skin, trying to calm the wild fluttering in his stomach. Searching for a distraction he turned away from Dean and opened a cupboard pulling out begs of chips and popcorn. He turned back to see Dean putting the sandwich onto a plate as he stuffed a piece of bread and ham into his own mouth._

_Dean smiled when he saw what Cas had found, grinning around a mouthful of sandwich in a way that really shouldn’t have been adorable. He stuck the soda bottle in his back pocket, grabbed the beer in one hand and the plate in the other. “Right, let’s go.” He said._

_They made their way stealthily back to Dean’s room. Every footstep or door opening, every distant voice, made Cas twitch and jump, eyes swiveling. Dean seemed to find it hysterical but Castiel was mortified; feeling guilty, and something else that had nothing to do with the stolen beer and everything to do with the boy who had taken it. That last emotion flared up in his chest every time he saw that stunning smile directed at him._

_*_

_Dean handed his brother the sandwich and the soda the moment he opened his door, “Here you go Sammy. Night.” He said, trying to duck out before Sam had a chance to spot the crate of beer that Cas now held behind his back._

_Sam noticed Cas’s twitchiness and narrowed his eyes at Dean. “What are you guys up to?” He asked._

_Dean gave him his best innocent expression, “What? Nothing dude. We’re just gonna watch a movie or something.”_

_Sam looked skeptical but shrugged, “‘k whatever.” He said, taking a bite of the sandwich and beginning to close the door, “Try and keep the kissing noises down though ok? No one needs to hear that.” Sam cackled, ducking out of the way and slamming the door in Dean’s face as his brother yelled and tried to grab him._

_“Get back here bitch!” Dean yelled, pounding on the door. The only sound from inside the room was more laughter followed by the sound of the TV as the volume was turned up._

_After a few seconds of deep breathing Dean turned back to Cas, his face and hands hot with embarrassment. “Sorry about him man.” Dean said, not looking at the other boy as he took the beer back and opened the door to his room, “He’s a douchebag!” He raised his voice, yelling at the connecting wall._

_Cas regarded Dean as he put the beer down on the bed. He was intrigued by what Sam had said; was it simply a childish joke, designed simply to humiliate his brother or was Sam implying something more? Dean’s reaction certainly suggested something more; his face was flushed bright red and he couldn’t meet Cas’s gaze. He gave Dean what he hoped was an encouraging, unconcerned smile and picked up the remote, turning the TV on. “It’s ok Dean, I have a brother too; I know what they’re like. Frankly Sam seems like no trouble at all compared to Gabriel.”_

_“Gabriel must be a fucking nightmare then.” Dean answered with a small, relieved smile._

_Cas thought he saw something else in Dean’s eyes; gratefulness? Confusion? He supposed some people might have reacted very differently to Sam’s implication, even if it was just a joke. He grinned, “Yes, he really is.” He said with a firm nod._

_Dean laughed and sat down on the bed, looking more relaxed as he maneuvered himself to lean against the headboard. He opened one of the bags of chips and ripped open the cardboard six-pack. He pulled out a chilled bottle, the condensation running down the sides already causing the label to slip and curl. He grasped the cap, twisting it off, ignoring the slight pain as the crimped edges dug into his palm. There was a hiss and he tossed the cap over his shoulder, handing the open bottle to Cas._

_Castiel took it, determined to look as nonchalant as possible. He wrapped his fingers around the cold, wet glass and raised it to his lips. He took a long pull on the bottle, watching Dean for any sign that he was somehow doing something wrong. The beer was cold and gassy and slightly tasteless, just a vaguely alcoholic bitterness. He liked it though, it was refreshing._

_Dean watched Cas as he up-ended the bottle and drank. Pink lips around the neck of the bottle, throat moving as he swallowed and, as if all of that wasn’t making it hard enough for Dean to think straight, he stared at Dean the entire time, eyes wide under thick eyelashes. Finally Cas lowered the bottle; it made an obscene wet pop as he pulled it away from his lips and Dean almost choked, clearing his suddenly dry throat and trying to disguise it as a cough. “Good?” He asked, cursing the slight break in his voice._

_“Yes, I like it.” Cas answered, turning the bottle towards him, pretending to examine the label in order to avoid Dean’s eyes._

_“Cool. Was that your first beer?” Dean asked._

_Castiel looked briefly uncomfortable but nodded quickly._

_Dean grinned, “Glad I was here to corrupt you.” He laughed and Cas flushed at the involuntary flood of images those words brought rushing to his mind. Dean seemed to catch his blush and they looked away from each other again._

_After a moment of heavy silence Dean patted the bed beside him and opened another beer for himself. “Come and sit man, if we’re gonna watch a movie you can’t be hovering around like that. You’re making me nervous.”_

_Castiel looked at the bed and slowly sat down, perching uncomfortably on the edge and sipping his beer again. Dean looked at him and raised an eyebrow, “Come on dude, relax, it’s fine.” He took the remote from Cas’s hand and began to flip between channels._

_Cas gradually shuffled back until he was leaning against the headboard next to Dean, his legs stretched out in front of him, socked feet beside Dean’s on the pale green blanket. He tried to hold himself away from Dean, his shoulders taut beneath his t-shirt, forgetting to breathe._

_“So what’d you wanna watch?” Dean asked, looking over at him, not appearing to notice his discomfort._

_Cas shrugged stiffly and took another swig from his beer, trying hard to look like he wasn’t freaking out. “Um I’m not sure, I don’t really watch a lot of TV. You choose.”_

_Dean carried on flicking though the channels looking for something good, then, all of a sudden he stopped. Die Hard. He grinned at Cas, “You ever see Die Hard?”_

_Cas shook his head warily, “I don’t think so?” he ventured._

_“You’d know if you had. Best movie ever. Better at Christmas, but what the hell.” Dean slid down the bed slightly, crossing his legs at the ankles and taking another swig of beer. Cas looked down at Dean’s head, level with his shoulder and tried to force himself to relax. Dean was shoving handfuls of chips into his mouth from the bag he held on his lap. After a few moments of internal debate Cas reached over to him and grabbed some. Dean moved the bag a little so Cas could reach it more easily, but he didn’t seem upset at Cas’s small invasion of his space._

_They watched the movie in silence for a while; nothing but the sound of crunching potato chips, beer sloshing and the hollow echo of breath over bottles as they drank. As he tried to lose himself in the plot of the movie, Cas became more relaxed, the ache in his shoulders and back fading as the tension drained away. He craned his neck, hearing the bones crack. Dean looked over at him, “Ow dude I felt that!” He said with a look of sympathy._

_Cas blushed slightly, “Stiff neck,” he replied, rolling his head on his shoulders again._

_Dean watched with hooded eyes as Cas tipped his head backwards, stretching his neck again. Suddenly he was hit by a vision of himself leaning over and fastening his lips to the pulse in Cas’s throat; of licking up taut tendons, tasting salt skin and soap. Biting and sucking and…this was not something he should be thinking about now. Or ever._

_Cas shifted awkwardly and put his hand in his back pocket, pulling out the iron cuffs he’d been working on earlier. He’d forgotten all about them. He put them down on his lap and Dean glanced over at them and did a double-take. “Something you wanna tell me Cas?” He asked with a chuckle and Cas thought his face might actually catch fire. He covered the cuffs with his hand, “No…I…I mean. I made them.” He tried to explain._

_Dean reached over and held out his hand, “Can I see?” He asked._

_Cas handed them over, feeling like an idiot when he looked at the crude carving. They looked crappy and amateurish. “They’re binding cuffs. For restraining supernatural creatures.” He explained quietly._

_Dean ran his fingers over the marks and symbols, “These are freaking awesome Cas.” He breathed. “You made these?”_

_Cas nodded, trying to tamp down the proud smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Yes. Rose is teaching me how to use magic to make tools and weapons and stuff. This is my first attempt though. The symbols and magic are supposed to mean they can hold any creature.”_

_“Wow. These would come in pretty fucking handy out on the road.” Dean said, holding them up to the light to see more of the detail. He noticed a sheen of weird blue light that seemed to crawl over the surface like oil as he tilted them. Was that Cas’s magic?_

_“Keep them.” Cas said without even thinking. His skin prickled when his brain caught up with his mouth; why would Dean want his crappy first effort? He was probably just being polite. “I mean…if you want.” He finished._

_Dean turned to him with a stunned expression, his eyes were wide and his lips parted in surprise. “Seriously?” He asked, “I can’t Cas, you made these! Don’t you need them?”_

_Cas shrugged. “I think they’ll be more use to you. Anyway, I…I want you to have them.”_

_Dean bit his lip, feeling tears pricking at the back of his eyes. This was the first time someone who wasn’t his brother or Dad had given him anything, let alone something they’d made themselves. He swallowed hard and smiled. “Thanks Cas.” He whispered and squeezed the cuffs in his hand once before putting them into his pocket._

_He turned back to the TV and tried to focus his attention on the trials and tribulations of John McClane but his familiarity with the movie was working against him. He knew the whole thing like the back of his hand so his brain refused to focus, instead he found himself drifting back into fantasy, watching Cas beside him. He closed his eyes tightly, he should tell Cas he’s tired, that he should go. Then he should go to sleep and try very hard to not think about ridiculously blue eyes and chapped lips and a smile that lights up his whole heart after less than a day._

_That’s definitely what he should do._


	7. Chapter 7

JULY 1995

 

_“So how come you live here? Your mom and dad in the Men of Letters?” Dean asked around a mouthful of chips. Trying to distract himself._

_Cas swallowed and kept his eyes on the TV. “Our parents are gone.” He said._

_Dean closed his eyes. Way to go dickhead, he thought. “Shit Cas, I’m sorry.” He said, knowing how useless his words sounded, how useless they were. He’d been on the receiving end of people’s awkward sympathy enough times._

_They both fell silent, then Cas said, “It’s ok, it was a long time ago. Gabriel and I have been here since I was 6 and he was 8. Our parents were members of the order and they took us in when they…” He paused, “They’ve been good to us. They’re teaching us to use magic, to help people.”_

_Dean smiled, “Yeah I get that. Helping people is good. There’s so much shit out there that they don’t even know about, you know? And if they did, all hell would break loose. So I guess someone’s got to keep it all on the down-low right?”_

_Dean turned back, intending to focus on the movie but found himself unable to stop speaking, words tumbled out, thoughts that he had never voiced before, things he would have denied feeling to his last breath. “Sometimes I kinda wish…I wish we were still like them.” He said, flicking his glance to the side, to see Cas staring at him, the orange light of the explosions of the screen reflected in his eyes. Dean tried to laugh again but it came out strangled, “Just…you can’t ever go back can you? You can’t un-know what we know. I would give a lot for Sammy to be a normal kid. To believe that there are no monsters under the bed, no reason to be afraid of the dark, but that’s never going to be the case now. For either of us.”_

_As he searched for the right words to reply, Cas slowly moved his hand to rest over Dean’s. He looked straight ahead, avoiding the other boy’s wide eyes. “I love it here,” He said after a moment. “I like what I do and I want to carry on but sometimes I would like to be able to go out and make friends. Not that they stop me.” He explained quickly, “I go to the school in town, I know people my own age but what is the point of getting to know people whose world is so unlike mine? What could we possibly have in common? It will be my job to help keep things from them. It’ll be for their own good perhaps, but I’m always going to be isolated from them.”_

_Dean stared at Cas’s hand on his. He should really pull away, laugh it off, run. This was dangerous. Don’t get attached. It will all end in tears, they won’t understand and you will get them hurt. That’s what John had always told him, shown him, a million times._

_Anyway, even if he could, even if he’d wanted to try; Cas is a guy and that’s a whole other issue._

_Dean had known he liked guys since he first realized he didn’t watch Doctor Sexy just for the hot nurses. The day he found out there was a word for the way he felt, that it was an actual, recognized thing, he nearly cried. However, thing or not, Bisexual was not a word or concept that would ever feature in John Winchester’s vocabulary. So Dean ignored that part of him, shoved it down into the same place where he kept his desire to be more than his brother’s keeper and his father’s soldier. He liked women too, so he focused on that and tried not to think about the chasm inside him, the part that went unfulfilled and un-admitted._

_Now there was this boy, who appeared out of nowhere and caught him by surprise and he already knew about all the things Dean couldn’t tell most people. He knew what was out there in the dark and he wasn’t afraid._

_He watched their hands on the bed between them, felt the warmth that made his fingers buzz and made him want to turn his hand over and twine their fingers together. His heart was thumping like it was going to jump out of his chest, his eyes stung with the effort of holding back tears but he didn’t move away._

_*_

_When Dean woke the room was dark except for the eerily shifting grey light from the TV static. He was lying on the bed, slipped down so that just his head was propped against the headboard, his neck was killing him. It took him a moment to realize where he was and that there was a weight on his shoulder. He looked down and saw a messy head of black hair leaning against him. Cas. He sucked in a breath and stilled. Heartbeat going crazy again. When did he fall asleep? Why did Cas stay? He looked at the other boy again. He seemed to be asleep; his breath ghosting, warm and even against Dean’s neck. Long eyelashes tickled his skin as Cas’s eyes flickered behind their lids. He looked adorable and serene and Dean felt his throat tighten as he watched him._

_He remembered continuing to watch the movie in the silence that stretched out over the room following their mutual confessions. At one point he had turned his hand over and laced Cas’s fingers with his but they said nothing. He didn’t have any more words and everything he wanted to say was in the grasp of his hand._

_Dean looked around guiltily, as if someone might be watching but there was nothing but silence surrounding them. He let out the breath that was threatening to burst his chest and felt his shoulders begin to drop again._

_Cas murmured in his sleep, a small smile curving his mouth as he wriggled slightly, snuggling down to bury his head into Dean’s chest and throw an arm over his stomach._

_Tentatively, Dean moved his arms, numb from being laid on and wrapped them around Cas’s waist; pulling him towards him, a line of drowsy heat flush with his own body. He pressed his nose into Cas’s soft, black hair and breathed in the scent that radiated from him; warm skin and honey and, very faintly, something crisp and green, that almost made his mouth water. He felt Cas smile against his chest and looked down, suddenly consumed by a shiver of contentment that spread through his body, softening his limbs, making them heavy and relaxed. He wanted to stay there, wrapped around Cas, he wanted to learn everything there was to know about him; what made him laugh, what made him cry. He found his lips against Cas’s forehead without even thinking._

_Cas stirred again and turned his head to look up at Dean and smiled, twisting his fingers in Dean’s t-shirt lightly. “Hey.” He said softly and Dean was struck dumb. How did he get to have this? There must be something he was missing? Cas was looking at him like he could see right into him. Like he knew every rage and twist inside him, everything Dean loved and everything he wished he didn’t love so much. Dean felt his eyes widen with panic and indecision but Cas just reached up to curve long fingers around his neck and dragged him down to crush their lips together._

_Cas’s lips were soft and warm but there was a strength behind the kiss that was totally alien and also everything he knew he had always wanted. He closed his eyes and kissed back, overwhelmed by the sense of something radiant but comforting pouring into the chasm inside him, filling up the aching space like something that should always have been there. Like something coming home._

_He licked along the seam of Cas’s mouth and sucked lightly on his chapped bottom lip, raking his teeth lightly over dry skin. Cas opened his mouth with a groan, slid his tongue against Dean’s and pushed his fingers into his hair, short nails raking over Dean’s scalp making him gasp._

_Cas sighed quietly as Dean’s arms tightened around him, hands running up Cas’s back to bury themselves in his hair. Cas’s fingers dragged up Dean’s back over his shirt as he chased his mouth with his own._

_The moment Cas’s hands found the hem of Dean’s shirt and began to slide up over his heated skin like trails of fire, there was a sound of the door handle turning. They sprung apart but it was already too late. John Winchester stood in the doorway with a face like thunder._

 

_ _

 

 

JULY 2005

Dean leans against the creaking shelves, watching Castiel as he pulls ancient vellum scrolls out of their black tubes and huge books with cracked leather covers from their places among the hundreds of others. Sometimes Cas adds them to a precarious pile at his feet or opens them only briefly before putting them back in their places.

In some ways Cas has changed so much that Dean hardly recognizes the boy he knew ten years ago, in many others ways though he is exactly the same. His black hair is still in seemingly permanent disarray, his eyes are still the same disquieting shade of forget-me-not blue; only now, they seem less bright than he remembers. His shoulders are broader now and his features finer, his face more lined. But it’s not just the way he looks - he is still quiet, precise and observant and when he does turn those eyes on Dean, it still feels like he’s looking right into him.

It is disconcerting, after all this time, to be seen so clearly again. For some reason he can’t quite explain, it makes him angry.

Who is Cas to accuse him of becoming like his dad? What’s wrong with that anyway? He knows there was a time, when he was a kid, when he thought he wanted something more, thought he was better than this life. In the end he understood the truth though. The truth is simple; some people get to have what they want and some people have responsibilities. Just because he once had a naive idea that he could change that doesn’t mean it’s true. It’s better this way.

He can’t deny he’s still attracted to Cas but that ship sailed a long time ago. It was nothing but a stupid teenage crush anyway.

*

Cas tries to focus on finding the right books. Somewhere in here will be the one that tells them what they need to know. The one with the cure that will mean they can fix Sam and the brothers can be on their way again. The sooner the better.

He almost laughs at that, it almost sounded like he hasn’t spent the last decade waiting for this. Waiting for Dean.

Not that he has spent almost a third of his life sitting around pining like a princess in a tower. He has a life, a home, friends, he’s had more than his fair share of relationships both serious and short lived. He’s become very good at his job and he still loves it, but sometimes, regardless of all of the evidence of his being a functioning adult, he can’t really deny that part of him has always been waiting for this boy with his Jade colored eyes.

Every time he heard about the Winchester’s over the last decade, every time they were mentioned by other Hunters or by the Order, in hushed and reverent or, more often, just plain exasperated, tones. He would spend the next few hours at least, thinking he should just go; should pack up and go find them. He never did.

The things he learned, from these scattered fragments of gossip terrified him. It was bad enough when John was alive, when at least he could fool himself that they would be ok, that they weren’t alone. After John died the stories just seemed to get worse.

When he had heard about John’s death he was almost expecting to hear something from Dean and, as the weeks had passed and it became obvious that wasn’t going to happen he had gradually felt the anger creeping in; driving out the sadness. John had won in the end. It was nothing but a stupid teenage crush after all.

Cas’s attention snaps back to the book in his hand as something catches his eye; this might be the one. He adds it to the pile at his feet and bends to pick them up. Dean follows him back to the table, “Got something?” he asks.

Cas nods, “I think so, it’s going to take a bit of reading though.” He thumps the pile of books down and looks up, raking his hands through his hair. Suddenly all he wants is for Dean to be not here, not following him around like the specter at the feast. “Are you hungry?” He asks, trying to sound casual, “Do you want to get us something to eat?”

Unspoken words swirl around the room like the motes of dust caught in the light; waiting for someone to breathe them in.

Dean raises his eyebrow, “Sure Cas, I can take a hint.” He says and Cas gives him a unintelligible look. Dean turns and leaves the room, wondering why he still feels so bitter if everything he just told himself is true.

*

In the kitchen Dean stands staring absently into the same old steel fridge and not focusing on the contents. He’s not really hungry anyway, he’s too busy worrying about Sam and feeling…whatever he’s feeling about Cas. He glances down and sees a six pack of beer. It’s the same brand they stole all those years ago and all at once he can almost feel the pleasant buzz that suffused his veins as they lay on the small bed drinking and trying not to look at each other. The faint drunken flush that stole over Cas’s skin, the intense shine in his eyes when he smiled at Dean; open and proud when he made Dean laugh. The stupid fluttering in Dean’s chest when he saw that smile. Warm, smooth skin under his lips, soft stubble dragging against his fingers…Fuck!

He squeezes his eyes closed and exhales in a rush of air and drops his head to hang between his aching shoulders. He braces himself against the fridge and feels the cool air wash over him. Of all the times they could have chosen to end up here again, of all the years since; how the fuck did they manage to choose a time when he was here? Is he being punished for something?

Probably. After all, why break the habit of a lifetime?


	8. Chapter 8

JULY 2005

In the library Cas stares at a frankly horrific woodcut illustration of the Nuckelavee in the yellowing frayed pages of a 12th century Bestiary. It is definitely the same thing he’s got chained up in the dungeon. The Old English text beside it explains exactly how not fun it would be to run into one of these things. The biting and poison, the spread of disease. They are keepers of water, demanding sacrifice and tribute to those who make use of it. How it has ended up in the middle of Kansas he can’t begin to guess.

Dean comes back into the room, baring sandwiches and beer, which he dumps unceremoniously on the table. He doesn’t say anything but takes a seat opposite Cas and tries to read the book upside down. Unfortunately he can’t even read old English right side up so he’s pretty much screwed. He takes a bite out of his sandwich.

Cas reaches absently for his beer while he continues to read the history of the Nuckelavee. He is avoiding looking at Dean.

After a few minutes Dean clears his throat pointedly and Cas looks up. Dean raises an eyebrow. Cas taps the book with his finger, “It’s definitely a Nuckelavee,” he says.

Dean shrugs, “No need to sound so pleased with yourself.” He says, “I thought we’d already got that far? How do we kill a…what you said?”

Cas glowers at him. “I’m working on that. These things don’t normally leave Scotland so it’s a bit out of the fucking ordinary.” He replies. He deftly ignores the slight twitch of Dean’s lips when he swears but he feels the back of his neck crawling with embarrassed heat.

Dean smirks, “Oh you cuss now do you? You really have grown up.”

Cas’s lip curls, “Yes well we’ve all grown up haven’t we? We’ve all put away childish things.”

Dean looks at him in silence, there are a million words in his head right now and none of them should be said out loud.

*

“How goes it kids?” Gabriel says brightly as he sticks his head around the library door, blithely ignoring the almost tangible waves of tension radiating from both Cas and Dean. “Any luck?”

Cas looks up, “Yes actually. I’m pretty sure it’s a Nuckelavee. Have you ever dealt with one?”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow and comes to look at the book. He whistles through his teeth, “Nice.” He says with a grimace, “Nope, never heard of one. You?”

Cas shakes his head warily, “Not really, I think I might have heard of them once. They’re very location specific – Scottish islands.” He shrugs, “Or at least they were. They’re water Fae so I imagine that’s why it was hunting by the lake. I haven’t figured out how to stop one yet.” He finishes.

“Well that’s a start. So it’s an elemental creature? That might help.” Gabriel says. “By the way,” He looks at Dean, “your enormous brother is awake. I’ve moved him to one of the bedrooms.”

Dean’s eyes light up and he stands quickly, “How’s he doing?” He asks.

Gabriel puts out a hand, making a so-so motion, “Not too bad for now but unless we can work out a proper cure it’s not going to last.”

Dean nods and turns to Cas, “I’m gonna go check on him. Ok?”

“Of course.”

Dean leaves the room, heading in the direction Gabriel points and Gabriel sits down in the chair he vacated. He watches Cas reading the book and making a concerted effort not to meet his eyes.

“Soooo.” Gabriel says after a while.

Cas glances up at him briefly, “Yes?” He asks, feigning ignorance.

“Deano’s back. And it’s only been, what? A decade?” Gabe asks. Cas gives a tiny shrug and a non-committal grunt. “And how are we feeling about that?” Gabriel asks in his best comedy psychiatrist voice. Cas takes a deep breath as if he’s about to pour out his heart and then narrows his eyes at his brother, “We are feeling fine Gabriel. We’re also feeling like it’s none of your business.” He says and looks back at the book. “We’re feeling like you should fuck off.”

Gabriel raises his eyebrows and grins, unperturbed by Cas’s anger. “Oh yeah I can tell you’re fine Cassie. You’re the image of emotional stability.”

“Screw you.”

“And as usual your wit is devastating. So…if, for example I was to say that the tension between the two of you is reaching dangerous levels? What would you say to that?”

Cas drops his face into his hands, breathing in the sweet, dusty smell of the antique book in front of him. “I would say it’s hardly surprising is it? You know what happened! You know how long it’s been. How is it supposed to not be weird?” He spreads his hands, “I have literally a thousand things I want to say but I don’t know where to start. I feel like he has stuff to say too but he won’t or can’t or doesn’t want to. And I know this is hardly the right time. Sam is ill and he’s worried and…” He trails off, looking up with an expression of distress that almost makes Gabriel regret tormenting him.

“This might not be the ideal time but I think it’s the only time you’re gonna get Cassie. There’s no such thing as the perfect moment.” Gabriel leans back in Dean’s chair, pushing against the carved table legs with his feet. “For the moment though you both need to focus on Sammy. Sitting around here pining for each other isn’t going to help him.” He says.

Cas nods in sheepish agreement, he knows his brother is right. They need to get over themselves, one way or another. Just as he’s about to agree with him though, his brain catches up with his ears. “Sammy?” He asks with a curious grin. Gabe bites his lip and looks at the floor, trying to suppress a smile. Cas laughs, “Who’s pining Gabriel?” He asks.

“Whatever, dickhead. Can you blame me? Have you seen him with his shirt off?”

Cas gives him a look somewhere between amusement and disgust. “God you really have no shame do you? He’s your patient – or whatever you call them - and he’s half your age.”

“I’ll have you know he’s at least two thirds my age Castiel.” Gabriel says, rising from the chair and making a performance of flouncing out of the library, turning to wink and blow a kiss over his shoulder as he goes.

Cas tries very hard not to laugh but ultimately fails. His brother is annoying and easily capable of driving him up the wall, but, surprisingly, quite good at cheering him up.

*

Dean walks down the corridor to the bedrooms, surprised that he remembers the way after so long. The door to one of the rooms is ajar and he realizes as he approaches that it is the one he stayed in before. As he looks through the door, he sees himself and Cas all those years ago, wrapped in each other’s arms in the light of the TV screen. His chest is suddenly tight, the flood of emotion knocking the air out of him. He screws his eyes closed and gulps in a ragged breath.

When he opens them again it’s just Sam lying in the bed. He’s wrapped in an old, familiar beige blanket, propped up on pillows and flicking though the TV channels. There’s a slight grey tinge to his skin and his eyes are bloodshot. He looks…faded somehow. His hand rests on the remote as if he hasn’t the strength to hold it. He looks up as Dean enters, eyes questioning as he takes in his brother’s pale face and startled expression. “You look like shit Dean, are you ok?”

“Gee thanks Sammy.” Dean replies with a smile that doesn’t quite work, “That’s really great coming from the guy who left most of his blood on the doormat.”

Sam shrugs, wincing at the pull of the wound now hidden by a dressing. He presses his lips together, looking down as if in the midst of an internal debate. Then he says, “Thanks for bringing me here Dean. I know this is probably the last place you want to be.”

Dean looks surprised, “Well yeah it wasn’t number one on my list of vacation spots but it’s the only place I know that could even begin to help you. No way I’m gonna stay away and risk your life because of some stupid shit from fucking eons ago. I’m not that stubborn.”

Sam swallows and smiles softly, “Apparently not.”

“So how’re you feeling?”

Sam raises a slow hand to his neck, nails scratching at the edges of the dressing, “Well, conscious obviously, so that’s a plus. Still really hurts though. I can feel something under my skin…feels like ants…or fire, somehow? I’m really hot and it itches like crazy and I feel like all my energy has just…gone.”

“We’re going to figure it out soon Sammy, don’t worry.” Dean says, he thinks his positivity sounds weak and unconvincing but Sam smiles anyway. “I know Dean.” He says, as if he never doubted for a moment, “What have you got so far?”

Dean sighs, “Not a lot. Cas thinks it’s a Nuckelavee – whatever the fuck that is. Apparently some kind of Scottish water monster thing?”

Sam laughs, “Figures. Only we could find a monster in the only body of water for miles. It’s not even an old lake! It’s man-made.” He says.

“I know dude, the Winchester curse strikes again.” There is a moment of silence then Dean asks, “So is Gabriel looking after you ok? He’s a kinda weird dude and I’m still not sure I trust this magical healing crap.”

Sam feels the blush start before he can try and divert his thoughts from the memory of his blood-loss addled attempt at flirting. He looks down quickly, but not quickly enough.

Dean looks at him with narrowed eyes, “Sammy?” he says, “What are you hiding?”

Sam swallows and looks up, attempting nonchalance, “What?” He says.

“Don’t give me that crap. I can read you like a fucking book.” He looks into Sam’s face; staring into shifty hazel eyes. Then he grins, “Holy shit, you like him!”

Sam rolls his eyes, the blush becoming ten times worse. He curses his brother and his own apparent inability to keep secrets. “What are you 12?”

Dean smirks, “Says the grown man blushing like a school girl. You so want him.”

Sam schools his expression into one of lofty disdain and doesn’t deign to answer.

Dean laughs but then a look of concern flashes over his face. “Be careful Sammy, we don’t really know much about him. He uses magic…” He trails off, not sure where he was going.

Sam looks up at him. “He’s not a witch Dean, he’s a healer. He’s helping me.”

“I know, I…just watch yourself ok?”

“He’s Cas’s brother anyway, isn’t that reason enough to trust him? It’s not like you had a problem trusting him.”

Dean shrugs, “It’s been a long time. We don’t really know either of them anymore.”

Sam looks skeptical, “Really?”

“It’s been 10 years Sammy! How much have you changed since then?”

“So you’re saying you don’t feel the same about him as you did then?”

Dean looks down, “I don’t know how I feel.”

“If you didn’t feel anything would it have been so hard to come back here? Anyway, Gabe told me how you too are mooning over each other.”

Dean looks up sharply, “Screw you! One, I have never mooned over anyone in my life, and two, Gabe? Really Sammy?”

“Never over anyone else maybe.” Sam says, ignoring the jab.

Dean glares at him, “I’m going to let you off ‘cause you’re sick, otherwise I’d be smacking you upside the head right now. I’m going to go and leave you to flirt with Gabe. Call me if you need me.” He turns back to the door but Sam reaches out and grabs his brother’s wrist.

“Dean, dad’s not here anymore.” Sam says and Dean turns, false incomprehension painted on his features. “He’s gone and what he thought doesn’t mean shit anymore, for either of us. So promise me you’ll at least speak to Cas? It’s been years but it obviously still means something to him, even if it doesn’t to you.”

Dean nods once. He leaves the room determined to bring an end to this. It’s time to get out of here.

*

Gabriel walks back in as Dean is leaving Sam’s room. Dean grabs him by the elbow and drags him to one side outside the door. “He doesn’t look good. What are you doing to him?” He asks.

Gabriel looks at him levelly, waggling the stick of a strawberry sucker between his teeth. “What I can.” He answers, “Whatever this is it’s fucking powerful. As that black shit moves, it’s draining him. Replacing his energy with poison. I’m still not sure why and I’m trying to pull it back but it’s just a stop-gap. I can’t fix him without knowing exactly how it works. I’m doing my best Dean.”

Dean looks down, “Ok, I’m gonna get to the bottom of this. We haven’t got time to fuck about with books anymore.” He turns away and then stops. “Thank you.” He says in a small voice.

“Don’t thank me yet kid.” Gabriel says, he takes a deep breath, slaps on a smile and walks into Sam’s room. “Hey Sasquatch how’s it going?” He asks.

Sam shrugs, “I feel like crap.” He says, “Also, you and Dean suck at being quiet.”

Gabriel sighs, “Sorry kiddo,” he says.

Sam smiles wryly, “It’s ok Gabe. I know I’m not well. I’m the one in this body remember? I can feel it, I know it’s not right. Just…” he pauses, “Don’t keep stuff from me ok? I’m not a kid.”

“Ok Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to worry; it’s not going to help and it’ll probably make you worse. There’s nothing you can do at the moment.” Gabriel walks over to the bed and places a hand on Sam’s forehead, “I’m going to try again, ok?” The skin under his fingers is hot and damp. He chews on his lip and closes his eyes, reaching out with his power to try and draw the poison back again. It is much harder this time, like dragging a ten ton weight with his mind. The poison pulls against him, wanting to spread, wanting to kill. He can feel its intent and it scares him.

Sam groans quietly and his eyes flutter closed, “It burns.” He says, his voice choked and dry.

Gabriel takes his hand away, feeling the tendrils of poison clinging like tar to his fingertips. He looks down at Sam and, without thinking, reaches out and smooths his damp hair back from his face. Sam’s eyes open in surprise but he smiles and Gabriel feels him push against his hand. Gabriel strokes Sam’s hair again and runs his hand softly down the side of his face, along his jaw to rest on the undamaged side of his neck. He feels Sam’s pulse jump, wet hair and heated skin, sticky under his fingers.

They look at each other in silence, each seemingly trying to decide on something and then Sam raises his hand and runs it slowly up Gabriel’s arm to curl over the other man’s neck and drag him down, pressing their lips together. The kiss is soft and gentle at first but Sam quickly takes control. He pushes himself into a half-sitting position, arms wrapping around Gabriel, fingers digging into his hair, lips pressing harder, teeth dragging over Gabriel’s bottom lip until Gabriel moans softly and opens his mouth, inviting Sam in.

When they finally break apart Gabriel’s hands are in Sam’s hair, lips swollen and eyes wide like he can’t believe what just happened. Sam also looks wrecked, his breathing is labored, his skin is flushed and his hair is a mess. Gabriel has to clench his hands into fists to stop himself from grabbing Sam again. He sits for a moment, staring vacantly at the movie playing in his head until Sam raises an eyebrow and waves a hand vaguely in his face. “Umm…Gabe?” He says, with a hint of amusement.

Gabriel blinks and sucks in a massive breath to stop himself passing out. “Sorry Sasquatch, got lost there for a minute.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, “Somewhere good I hope?”

“Oh god yes.” Gabriel answers and Sam grins.

Sam leans in again, sucking Gabriel’s lower lip between his teeth, running his tongue over swollen flesh. Gabriel whines in frustration and gently pushes Sam back. “Oh kiddo, that is so not fair.” He says, voice wrecked and hoarse.

Sam cocks his head, looking confused.

“You’re ill Sam.” Gabriel explains, “This thing is draining the life right out of you. You need to save your energy right now.”

Sam gives the slightest hint of a pout and sighs. He knows Gabriel is right but there is part of him that really, really doesn’t care. One part in particular really. As Gabriel moves to get up his leg presses against Sam who groans and grinds his hard-on against Gabriel’s thigh. Gabriel gasps and reaches down, pressing his hand to Sam’s length. “Fucking hell Sammy,” he whines, feeling hard, hot flesh through the thin fabric of the sheets, “You’re not helping.”

Sam smirks as he pulls Gabriel to him, grinds up into his hand and moans obscenely into his mouth. “Fuuuuccckk…” Gabriel summons every last piece of will power he has ever possessed, pulls away from Sam and gets up from the bed. He looks down at Sam who smiles, folding his arms behind his head as he lies back down. Gabriel also tries very hard to ignore the impressive tent in the sheet. “You are going to kill me Sam Winchester.”

“Probably.” Sam agrees with a smile.

Gabriel runs his hands down his face and takes a deep breath. He shakes his head and huffs a laugh, “I’m going to have to go…elsewhere. Being here with you is doing crazy things to my head Sammich. Are you going to be ok for a bit?”

Sam turns on his side, propping his head on one hand and running the other up Gabriel’s arm slowly. “Yeah I’ll be fine. Kinda want you to stay though.”

“Kiddo, I want to stay more than I want literally anything else in the world right now but we need to get you fixed up.” Gabriel says, watching the way the thin sheet drapes over the curve of Sam’s ass, twisting as he moves to reveal the muscles of his back and chest, “I really need you to get fixed up, because I really need you to fuck me into that mattress.”

Sam blinks in surprise, “Oh fuck,” he groans, falling back against the pillows, “Now who’s not being fair? Fuck, I need to get better soon!”

Gabriel leans down with a wicked grin and kisses him again, quickly and chastely. Or at least that is his intention before Sam kisses him back hard and reaches up again to grasp his shoulder. As Gabriel goes to pull away Sam’s grip tightens. He’s about to laugh and push Sam away when he looks into his face and everything stops. Sam’s eyes have rolled back into his head and his skin is suddenly ashen, he is clutching at Gabriel, his fingers rigid. His throat is working but no words will come, he sounds like he’s choking.

Gabriel’s heart is beating so fast he feels like he can barely breathe, he grabs Sam by his jaw and turns his head towards him, grasping the sides of his face. “Sam!” He exclaims, and he hates the edge of panic that creeps into his voice, this is why this sort of thing is never a good idea. He can’t focus, can’t think like he needs to. All he can think is NO, Not Him, Not Now. He tries to pull his scattered awareness back together. He can feel the power of the poison without even trying. The black coils have wound their way up Sam’s arm again and back across his chest. He is starting to seize, limbs twitching and eyes rolling. Gabriel curses himself for not noticing, for not checking on the wound, for letting himself get distracted while the curse took hold again.

Gabriel puts both hands flat on Sam’s shoulder and chest, pushing him gently down against the bed. Then he closes his eyes, focusing all of his energy and power on the tug-of-war with the angry, twisting thing inside Sam. He grits his teeth, he can feel it like a physical presence, coiling, absorbing. He can see the light of Sam’s energy getting dimmer, flickering as it is syphoned away by the curse. He screws up his eyes, clenches his teeth and almost screams as he summons all of his power to drag it back toward the source. He feels something, something not Sam, hiss in anger and pain as it is wrenched back and he suddenly understands. The energy, Sam’s energy or life force or whatever you want to call it, is being diverted to the creature. As he gets weaker it will get stronger. It’s a parasite.

He stops, steadying himself with his hand against Sam’s chest. Sam’s eyes flutter and he groans. Gabriel watches Sam’s face carefully as he catches his breath; his skin is still grey but, to Gabriel’s relief, he has stopped twitching and his limbs lie heavily on the soft mattress.

After a few moments Gabriel reaches down to stroke his fingers over Sam’s cheek. It feels quieter inside him for now but he knows the curse will be back soon and it will be stronger each time. Sam whimpers and Gabriel brushes his fingers over his hair, “Shh, it’s ok Sam. It’s ok.” He murmurs.

He keeps watching for several minutes until he feels Sam’s breathing even out and his body fully relax. Then he leaves the room. It’s time to get some answers.


	9. Chapter 9

JULY 1995

_There had been a lot of yelling. Dean had just stood there and taken it, his whole face flame red, eyes downcast, shoulders shaking. Castiel stood at his side, every fiber of him wanting to run from the room but unable to bring himself to leave Dean’s side as he watched him crumble under the weight of the poisonous words spewing from his father’s mouth._

_John’s fists were clenched at his side and at first Castiel had thought he was going to hit Dean but he didn’t; he just cursed and yelled then grabbed his son roughly by the arm and dragged him from the room, shouting for Sam._

_Sam burst out of his room, looking sleepy and confused. He took in the sight of Dean, his arm white where John gripped it and Cas standing, pale faced behind him, and he understood in a second. He yelled at his father. “Leave him alone dad! Why does it matter? You wouldn’t care if Cas was a girl!” Dean felt a surge of pride and fear at his words, he wanted both to hug his brother and tell him to shut up. Not to get involved. John rounded on his youngest son, eyes blazing. “Stay out of this Sam! You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. We’re leaving right now. Get your stuff.” He dragged Dean down the corridor with Sam at their side, still arguing. “Yes I do know! I know what he feels, I know too Dad!”_

_Cas followed at a run, desperately trying to process what was happening. Some of the other residents of the bunker emerged from various rooms to investigate the noise. “What on earth is going on here?” Rose asked when she appeared, looking furious._

_“We’re leaving.” John shouted, “What is wrong with you people? You’re supposed to be experts but you can’t help me with my work and then I find this…freak corrupting my son.” John yelled, pointing at Castiel._

_Cas felt a surge of anger and protectiveness like nothing he’d never experienced before. He stepped forward and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, trying to pull him towards him, “Fuck you!” He shouted at John, although it came out as a choked sob, tearing at his throat. “You can’t make him go with you. He doesn’t want to go back out there.”_

_There was silence for a moment as the whole room held its breath. Dean looked at Cas and then at his brother. The moment he’d heard Sammy tell their father that he knew what Dean felt he had known there was no way he could leave him. Together they had support, they had each other. Alone Sam had no chance, he and John would just fight and fight until they abandoned or killed each other. He needed to be there for both of them; that was his job. Cas would be better off without him anyway. Better to make a clean break now, be cruel to be kind. Dean took a deep breath and shook Cas’s hand off his shoulder, “Go away Cas.” He said, his voice hoarse, “I don’t want to stay.” He added, trying to sound composed and calm._

_Castiel felt a crack open in his chest, like his blood had frozen and split him down the center. He inhaled sharply and stepped back. The look in Dean’s eyes tore into his soul. How was it fair to feel like this after just a day? As if something he hadn’t even known was empty had been filled and suddenly drained away again. Somewhere he could hear Rose and the others protesting angrily, threatening John. “No.” Cas said and suddenly all eyes were on him and Dean again, waiting._

_Dean looked at him with glazed eyes, all he could think was ‘Please don’t make me do this.’ Cas continued to stare at him, defiant and pleading at the same time. Tears swam in Dean’s eyes, spilling over as he closed them. Please don’t. He breathed in, screwed his heart up and hissed, “Fuck off Castiel.” He managed to meet Cas’s eyes, to look into an abyss of betrayal and pain and say, louder and colder, “Just leave me the fuck alone.” But inside he was already destroyed._

_He turned, pulling himself from John’s grip and walked away up the corridor without a single glance back. He fought for every last piece of composure he had at his disposal, focusing on his feet moving over the white concrete floor, determined to ignore the pitying looks and the rage simmering inside him. “Come on Sammy!” He called out as soon as he was sure his voice wouldn’t crack. It almost sounded as if his heart wasn’t breaking._

_Sam glanced at Cas but the sheer agony in those huge blue eyes was too much to bear and he looked away without a word, following Dean up the hall. John’s expression was a mixture of anger and vindication as he followed his sons out of the bunker and back to the never-ending road._

_*_

JULY 2005

Dean marches down the corridors toward the dungeon. The door is open and he lets himself in, shutting it behind him. He pulls at the old, leather-bound book again and the heavy door swings open. He crossed the antechamber and drags open the next door as well.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom, there is one tiny window many feet above in the high ceiling, an iron grill in the shape of a devils trap covering it. Some thin rays of light pierce through, illuminating the swirling motes of dust and the red, gory face of the creature. It sits unnaturally still, still thankfully bound to the chair. As Dean enters the room, it turns its head sharply, single eye pinning him with an unblinking stare. The suddenness of the movement almost makes him jump back but he swallows his fear and stands in front of the table, meeting its gaze steadily.

“What do you want?” He asks it.

It continues to watch him, saying nothing. There is a faint smile on its face, perhaps? It’s hard to tell. It moves its head onto one side like a bird, regarding him with curiosity.

Dean moves forward in a rush, grabbing a fist full of its tattered robe and dragging it toward him, the metal chair legs screeching across the concrete. “You know what? I don’t give a shit what you want. Heal my brother now or I will kill you.” He explains, voice low and even. “We know what you are.”

It looks surprised, eye widening for a moment before the impassive expression returns.

Dean shoves it back into the chair hard, “Why are you here?”

“Because there was water. Water in the desert.” Its voice is a wet crackling sound like pouring blood onto dry leaves and its lipless mouth stretches into a grin.

“It’s a fucking man-made lake! I thought the sea was more your thing?”

It shrugs, “Sea, lake, pond. It is all water, it is all mine. They come to the water and they’re mine too. Payment.”

Dean frowns, “For what?”

“The water is mine but they can use it, fish, drink, swim.” It shrugs as if it doesn’t really understand what humans want with water. “But they must pay. They have always paid.”

“Once maybe, but this is our time now you son of a bitch. No one gives a shit about fairies and monsters.”

It looks at him, its eye unmoving. It looks unimpressed. “They pay. They don’t come of their own free will like they did once, but they pay.”

Dean’s rage and frustration over take him and he grabs it by the back of the neck and slams its head into the table. There is a nasty, wet sound and a smear of blood across the cold aluminum. The drowning laughter starts again. Dean leans over the creature, “Let him go.” He repeats.

“Can’t.” It chokes wetly, still sounding unconcerned, “Too late, nearly all gone. All mine.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Dean snarls.

It smiles thinly, “Won’t.”

Dean pulls the iron knife from his boot again and presses it against its flesh. This time there is no reaction, no smoke or burning stench. The creature is stronger now. Frustrated, Dean slams it roughly against the table again, raw flesh slides on the blood streaked surface but it just laughs.

“Could swop?” It says, almost casually when he pulls it up again.

Dean stops, stills, “Swop?” He asks.

It shrugs, “Take another? I like the one who brought me down here. He’s got lots of power.” It says with a thin smile.

“Take me.” Dean says without a moment’s hesitation.

“Why? What have you got? Nothing in there but angst and regret.” It sneers, “No power.”

Dean shoves it harder down, gripping its neck tighter, “It’s all you’re getting. Take. Me.”

Outside the heavy dungeon door Gabriel watches through the small window.

He came here with no idea of what he was going to do, some vague formless combination of threats, begging and cajoling in the hope that he could get Sam released from this hideous curse of slow decline. What he has just witnessed has left him horrified. He doesn’t know how but he is going to make this right. There has been enough tragedy and self-sacrifice already.

*

JULY 1995

_It turned out that silence could be tangible. The only sound was the soft, regular thump of the Impala’s wheels passing over the seams in the road. There was no music, no conversation, no complaining from Sam. Dean wondered if there ever would be again._

_He sat in the back behind the driver’s seat where he couldn’t see his father and John couldn’t see him. They hadn’t exchanged a word since John drove out of the bunker’s garage. The long, flat Kansas scenery stretched away from them in all directions. The sky was brilliant blue, not a cloud in sight. The sun beat onto his skin through the glass as Dean ran his fingers absently over the soft leather of the doors. He used to think of the car as home, or at least the closest thing to a home he’d known in a long time. Now it felt like a prison._

_His fingers twitched as he gazed at the door handle lost in an elaborate fantasy of opening the door, throwing himself out onto the road, of falling, rolling and just running. He could run until his lungs burned, run and stumble and crawl. Jeans torn, hands grazed, skin clogged with dust and he could fall on his knees by the hidden doorway and hammer on it with his bare hands until Cas opened it. Until he let him in and locked the door and wrapped him in his arms and pushed the rest of the world outside._

_There were a couple of moments during that endless, silent journey when his fingers curled over the cold metal of the door handle and he almost, almost pulled it toward him. Held his breath, got ready to jump. Then he felt a hand touch his arm and he turned away from the fantasy and toward hazel eyes and a small, awkward smile and he knew there was no way he would ever open that door. He wouldn’t ever run, ever fall, ever leave him._

_A choking sob gathered at the back of his throat but it would never break free. He understood now - Some people get to have what they want because the things they want are good and right and some people don’t... Some people have a job to do, a role to play and so they have to make sacrifices. He would forget about Cas; the hole in his soul would shrink and close up, the ache would fade until he just stopped feeling so much._

_Dean looked up and met his father’s eyes in the rear-view mirror for a fleeting moment before they both glanced away. Dean knew eventually it would be behind them, at least on the surface. Eventually his father would talk to him, look him in the eye, and maybe even trust him again; if only because he had no choice. They would never speak about it and one day it would just be disregarded. He could wait._

_Dean squeezed his brother’s hand once, roughly and let it go. He smiled at Sam and swallowed the tears down._

_*_

_Cas sat on the floor of the main room of the bunker. The other occupants having drifted off to attend to their own business once the excitement of the Winchester’s dramatic exit had faded. They had tried to encourage him, in mumbled, awkward tones, to get up, to sit on the couch or eat something but he couldn’t. It had been an hour now._

_It was as if all the energy had soaked away into the floor as Dean walked out. As if the moment he told him to fuck off in that dry, desperate voice, everything had stopped and he was waiting to reboot. As he sat there on the wooden floorboards he didn’t feel sad, or angry. He didn’t really feel anything. He had something, briefly, that meant more to him than seemed feasible and then it was gone. That should be it really. Sad, but true. What was there to mourn after one day?_

_So why did he feel like his insides had been gouged out and spread over the floor for everyone to see? Like everyone knew exactly how destroyed he really was?_

_Part of him thought he was over-reacting. He was dimly aware that he was being ridiculous, that he should get up, get to his feet and get over it._

_There was a soft squeeze of a hand on his shoulder and he looked up into the steel blue eyes of Rose, her long hair swinging over her shoulder as she looked down at him. Her expression wasn’t pitying, just open. She didn’t speak, she just knelt down on the floor next to him and all of a sudden he found he had flung his arms around her and was sobbing so hard he couldn’t breathe. He dragged in great, wracking lungful’s of air that hurt, his nose streamed and his eyes stung. The loose cotton of her purple top was soaked with tears but he couldn’t stop, he wondered if he would ever be able to catch his breath again._

_After a while the shaking of his shoulders began to still and he gulped for air, tasting nothing but salt. His skin was tight with dried tears and his eyes were red raw. Rose’s arms were wrapped around his shoulders, his head rested against her neck where her skin was soaked with his tears._

_A huge rush of embarrassment suddenly overtook him and he pulled away, scrabbled against the floor, trying to stand on wobbly legs, his whole body weak from crying._

_“Castiel.” She said quietly. He stopped, halfway to his feet, unable to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry he had to go.” She said._

_He shook his head, “He didn’t have to go. Why didn’t he say something?” he answered and his voice was so hoarse it sounded like someone else’s. “He didn’t want to go.”_

_Rose nodded, “I know love, I know. I could see that, we could all see that.” She reached out and pushed his hair back from his face gently, an echo of Dean’s touch that threatened to overwhelm Cas, another flood of tears barely held back._

_“Sometimes people come into our lives who aren’t meant to stay Cassie, there are a million reasons why.” Rose continued, “But sometimes they come back.” She smiled and Cas blinked, tears spilling over and down his face in a silent stream as he got to his feet. Rose remained sitting on the floor, looking up at him._

_*_

_When Gabriel came back to the bunker a week later he found his brother curled in the chair that faced away from the door of the library. Rose had explained to him a little bit about what had happened and as he approached the chair a million words crowded in his head but he couldn’t find the right ones. Instead he draped himself over the high back of the arm chair, arms resting around his brother’s shoulders and said nothing as Cas silently reached up and took his hand._

_He closed his eyes and stretched his mind out to Cas, trying to do what the Bokor woman had taught him. At first there was resistance, a glassy wall that surrounded his brother’s mind, but then Cas let out a small, resigned sigh and the wall melted away and Gabriel was surrounded by the sights and sounds and emotions that churned in Cas’s soul. He choked, blinking at the sudden bombardment of pain and anger. He felt hot tears leak from his closed eyes and then a brilliant, shimmering, tangible light lanced across his vision, woven through all of his brother’s thoughts and memories of the boy. A glowing tether that was still bright and strong although it stretched off into the far distance. Gabriel smiled, “He’s going to be back someday Cassie.” He said as he sees the boy at the other end of the tether that will gradually bring him back home to the other half of his soul._


	10. Chapter 10

JULY 2005

Cas knows something is wrong the moment Dean walks into the library. The blank, unfocused look on his face scares him; it’s as if Dean is watching something inside his own head. It is the look he saw the last time. Cas’s heart speeds up, he feels a prickle of heat crawl across his skin, “Where are you going?” He asks, before he can stop himself.

Dean looks at him as if he’s only just realized he isn’t alone. He blinks, “Nowhere.” He replies, too quick, too off-hand.

Cas frowns, he has no idea what is going on but he knows bullshit when he hears it. “Dean, what’s wrong?” He asks.

Dean looks at him and doesn’t say anything. He looks as though he’s debating leaving the room. He gestures vaguely in the direction of the door, “I’m going to see Sammy.” He says quietly, turning away from Cas.

“Dean!” Cas’s voice is sharp and commanding, Dean finds himself stopping, turning back before he is even aware of what he’s doing. Cas is watching him from the table. He is standing up, hands on the polished wood, leaning over a little. He is staring at Dean but, rather than anger, Dean only sees exasperation in his expression. “Tell me what’s happening.”

Dean opens his mouth to say “Nothing,” again but the word won’t come. He stands with his mouth open like a particularly stupid fish until, all in a rush his voice comes back, “It said it could take me instead.”

Cas stares at him, trying to process the meaning of the seemingly random statement. “What do you mean?” He asks, although he is afraid he knows, he just needs to say something.

“The whatever-its-called, the monster. It says it can take someone else instead and let Sam go.”

“So, what? You’re just going to sacrifice yourself?”

“I’m going to save him.”

“Yes, I thought that’s what we were all trying to do here?”

“Yeah Cas, I know and I’m not saying I’m not grateful but there’s no time left. We don’t know how to kill this thing or even if killing it is gonna save him. Gabriel said there’s not much more he can do, so…”

“So what? You’ve decided the only option is to let it kill you instead?”

Dean strides over to Cas’s table, he is shouting now, “We’re shit outta options Cas! It’s never gonna give Sam up without getting something in return and there’s no fucking way I’m letting it take you…” He stops abruptly.

They are face to face now, hardly a foot apart and suddenly Dean feels a taught line of tension inside him snap. What does it matter anymore, if this is the end of his road? He walks around the table, crowding Cas backwards towards the wall, staring into his eyes. He reaches out, clasping the back of his neck, shoving him against the bookshelf and crushing their lips together before the voice in his head even has a moment to argue. Cas lets out a gasp of surprise and then kisses back urgently, wrapping his arms around him, pushing his fingers into his hair, breathless and frantic.

In an instant Dean is back in that bedroom, in the half light of the TV and the quiet hum of the static. His heart is pounding, part of him wants to pull away. This is wrong, they can’t…there are things he needs to do. There’s no time…this is wrong…

Cas deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue along Dean’s plush bottom lip as Dean opens his mouth and gasps.

“It’s ok Dean,” Cas says softly, pulling back and grasping Dean’s head in his hands, combing his fingers through the short hairs at his nape. The soothing sensation drags a shaky moan from Dean that may be the best thing Cas has ever heard. A wave of relief breaks over them both, crashing, falling, breaking down a decade of defenses, a decade of waiting.

When Dean kisses him again it’s crazy and messy and hungry, their teeth clash and lips bruise and neither of them can stop the desperate noises that bubble up from their throats. Embarrassing, whining, keening sounds that neither would ever admit to making. This is what ten years feels like.

Cas is clawing his fingers up Dean’s back, raking his nails over his shirt, pulling awkwardly at the fabric that covers his shoulders, as he fights to get it off him. All he wants is to taste him, see him, claim him. Finally it falls to the floor and Cas drops his mouth from Deans to kiss his way down his neck, biting and licking and mouthing over the pulse that twitches in his throat, above the neckline of his black t-shirt. Dean drops his head back and moans, a deep, wrecked sound that travels down Cas’s body in a rush.

“Oh fuck…” Dean groans, he can’t come up with any coherent sentences right now, everything in his head is just need and want. He wonders if maybe he should slow down, remember this, but he can’t, he runs his hands over Cas’s broad shoulders, the thin awkward body of 17 year old Cas has long gone, replaced by deceptively solid muscles that strain against his blue shirt. This is it, this is him. The first and last man Dean has ever really wanted.

Dean reaches down to grasp Cas’s ass, lifting him up, digging his fingers into tight muscle. Cas moans and wraps his legs around Dean’s waist, leaning down to kiss him hungrily as Dean carries him to the old leather couch in the corner and lays him down. He reaches up to drag Dean down to him, pressing their bodies together in one long line of heat.

Dean hisses at the sensation of Cas’s cock, rock hard under his pants, pressing against his own erection. Cas’s fingers scrabble to push his t-shirt up over his stomach and chest, trying to free him from the fabric while he mouths at Dean’s neck, savoring the salt, sweat, motor oil taste of his skin.

“Fuck Dean,” Cas says, shivering as Dean takes over, grabbing the t-shirt and pulling it over his head, tossing it over his shoulder, “You taste so good.” Dean leans down to meet Cas’s mouth again, sucking on his tongue with a grin and begins to kiss his way down Cas’s throat, feeling his pulse jump at the touch of his lips. He pulls at the buttons of Cas’s shirt as he moves down his body, fumbling them open and pushing it back from his shoulders. As the broad, smooth expanse of his chest is gradually revealed, Dean pauses, sitting back for a moment to admire him.

Cas is the most beautiful thing Dean has ever seen. There is a glow that seems to pour from his skin. Tiny beads of sweat cling to the dip of his collarbone, catching the light, begging him to slide his tongue over them. He leans forward, flicking his tongue over the sheen of sweat, making Cas shiver and writhe under him. Cas’s lips are dark pink and kiss swollen and his pupils are blown wide, a thin circlet of brilliant blue surrounding each one as he smiles up at Dean.

How is this wrong? He thinks as he looks down. How can it be wrong?

Cas’s smile lights up his heart, makes him smile in return without even thinking. Why didn’t he come back before? Why did it take him until now, until it’s too late, to do this?

He dips his head and kisses across Cas’s collarbone again, dragging his teeth gently until he reaches his shoulder. Cas cries out in pleasure as he sinks his teeth into the solid muscle, sucking a mark into smooth tan skin, licking over the bruise to soothe the pain as soon as it blossoms.

Cas breathes out in a shaky rush. “Finally.”

With that word it’s as if a floodgate has opened; Dean doesn’t ever want to stop. He wants to make up for every moment, every second of the last decade that they haven’t been doing this. All the pain, all the fear.

Dean reaches down between them, fumbling with Cas’s belt. He wants every part of Cas he can have. Cas is writhing under him, hands moving blindly, grasping desperately, trying to touch all of him at once. His lips are locked against Dean’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. He lifts his hips allow Dean to drag his jeans and underwear down over his ass.

Dean yanks them off over Cas’s bare feet and tosses them away with a grin. Then he looks up and his mouth goes dry at the sight of Cas’s cock, flushed and hard against his stomach. He dismisses every single fear in his mind, leans down and licks up the entire length of him, over his balls and right to the tip. Part of Dean’s mind is surprised at himself but most of him doesn’t care anymore. He wants Cas, he wants the warm, salt taste of him, the feel of him. He wants every one of a million fantasies he’s had over the years. Every time he’s come in the shower to a hazy memory of blue eyes and soft lips. He smiles as he flicks his tongue over the head of Cas’s cock again, feeling the hard flesh twitch, pressing against his lips. He opens his mouth and sinks down, taking Cas into his mouth in one long, slow slide. This is all those fantasies and also none of them. Because this is real.

“Oh God Dean, holy shit” Cas moans as he looks up at Dean kneeling over him. Cas’s head is tipped back, the blood is rushing to his head and he’s seeing stars. Dean’s mouth is amazing, hot and wet and tight as he hollows his cheeks, sucking and licking. He feels the swirl of his tongue around the tip of his cock and his eyes roll back in his head. He is desperate to sink his hands into Dean’s hair, but fighting to hold himself back from thrusting up into that warm wet mouth. He reaches down, feeling for Dean’s mouth, tracing plush, wet lips as they stretch around his cock. Fuck. That may be the hottest thing he’s ever felt. At this rate he’s not going to last five minutes, “Dean,” he says warningly. Dean simply opens his mouth wider and relaxes his throat. Cas gasps as he feels his cock hit the back of Dean’s throat and he nearly comes there and then. He screws his eyes closed, takes a deep breath and pulls gently on Dean’s hair, “Come here Dean. I want to see you. Wanna see you come.”

Dean lets out a ragged moan and Cas bucks up as the vibrations travel down his length. “Fuck!”

With an intentionally obscene pop Dean pulls off Cas and licks his lips. He leans over and whispers in Cas’s ear, “You taste fucking amazing Cas, I’ve wanted to do that for ten fucking years.” He suddenly reaches down and grabs Cas by his ass and pulls him towards him, Cas’s legs lock around his waist and he crushes their lips together fiercely, licking into the heat of Cas’s mouth as Cas wraps his arms around his shoulders, burying his hands in his hair and pulling sharply. Dean whines into his mouth and reaches down awkwardly with one hand to undo his own jeans, shoving them down as best he can and pulling out his cock, swollen and red, drooling pre-come over his fist. He reaches for Cas’s cock and takes them both in his hand. At the sensation of Dean’s erection sliding against his own, pre-come slicking the way, of Dean’s strong fingers wrapped around him, of his hand gripping his ass as he grinds against him, Cas’s head falls back again and he lets out a deep moan, “Oh Dean, oh fuck yes.”

Dean begins to move his fist, dragging his rough hand over smooth-hard skin, sliding them together, gasping at the sensation and heat, fumbling to keep them both in hand. He leans his forehead against Cas’s as he feels the familiar tightening, building sensation. Cas is panting, groaning and staring straight at him, eyes wider than he’s ever seen, “Dean…yes, yes, fuck yes…I…shit…I waited…I always…I” A litany of meaningless words and phrases falls from his mouth, he wraps his strong legs tighter around Deans waist, drags his nails over the skin of his back and shoulders. Dean thrusts his tongue into Cas’s mouth, swallowing his words as he comes with a muffled cry and a shudder, harder than he can ever remember, with his eyes wide open and staring into Cas’s. Cas watches Dean fall apart as he comes too, thick white ropes splash onto their stomachs and Dean’s already slick hand.

*

Sometime later, or maybe only a matter of minutes, they both lie, naked except for underwear, on the now somewhat sticky, cracked leather couch in front of the empty fireplace. Dean had made a perfunctory attempt to clean them up with his t-shirt which now lies discarded on the floor next to the couch. Cas’s head rests on Dean’s chest, his arm flung over his stomach, fingers digging in ever so slightly in an attempt to avoid falling off the too-narrow surface.

Dean is playing with Cas’s hair, twisting the short dark strands between his fingers. The odd tear occasionally wells up and spills down his cheek as his swirling emotions overwhelm him but he is smiling, a smile that keeps threatening to become a laugh. He kisses Cas’s hair for what may be the hundredth time since they lay down and Cas grins against his chest.

“How is this possible? How can it be that good?” Dean asks in wonder.

Cas doesn’t answer directly. Instead he says, “When you left I turned completely in on myself. I wasn’t exactly a social butterfly to begin with but I stopped even trying to meet other people or leave the bunker. I didn’t see the point.” Dean’s fingers tighten in his hair but Cas carries on, not giving him space to reply, to apologize. “Gabriel tried to help me. He still does in a way. He tried to drag me to parties and clubs, to get me to find someone else, to stop me becoming, in his words, “Some kind of Miss fucking Haversham" locked up in the bunker in a decaying wedding dress - he has such a delicate turn of phrase. So I tried, and I found that some people actually seemed to think I was attractive or something, so I thought, “What the hell” and I screwed my way through most of the gay population of Kansas over the next five years or so.” He stops and gives a small awkward laugh, looking embarrassed for a moment but he carries on, “I had a few relationships that even lasted more than one night, I moved out of here and got a flat, just came back here when I needed to work. It took me five years to realize I hated it. I didn’t like the parties, I didn’t particularly like the people and what was the point of sleeping with any of those guys who weren’t you?” He shrugs as best he can without falling off the couch. “I’m aware that that may seem to be somewhat in-keeping with the Miss Haversham way of thinking, but the moment I realized that, I was happier. I remembered how much I love this place, I love my books, I love learning. I like people in moderation, not excess.” He pauses and thinks back to what his brother told him, “When I first saw Gabriel after you left he said he could see a tether between us in my soul and he said that’s how he knew you would come back eventually. We are two parts of the same thing, like soul-mates I guess? Does that sound too cheesy?”

Dean smiles against his hair, “Ordinarily I would say hell yes it’s cheesy but after that, after everything I’ve felt today and for the last decade? I’d say be as cheesy as you damn well like baby.”

Cas grins at the pet name and kisses Dean’s chest. Dean pulls him close but even as he feels himself melting into the relief of broken tension he knows he is trying not to think about what’s to come.

There is a long silence while the cold world floods back into the warm room, chasing out the calm atmosphere.

“There’s no other way. I can’t let him die, I can’t let you die.” Dean says, his voice catches and he screws his eyes closed, squeezing out the tears that cling to his eyelashes. He keeps his eyes closed, as if not being able to see Cas will make it easier.

“But why does it have to be your responsibility Dean? Why do you have to be the one to jump on the land-mine? How long did you consider the alternatives? Five seconds? Two?”

“It’s what I do Cas. I take care of him, it’s what I’m good at.”

“I remember you saying you wished you didn’t have to. You used to wonder if there was something more out there for you.”

Dean gives a sharp, pained laugh, “I did once,” he continues in a voice so low Cas has to strain to hear him. “Do you know what it did to me Cas? Seeing the look on my dad’s face when he caught us? I was so happy, lying there with you, I was in a bubble and there was nothing but comfort and peace. Sam was happy, I was happy, I had found something incredible that I never expected in a million years. Someone so incredible that just being with you drowned out the sound of his voice in my head. The jokes about “fags” and “queers” and all the other shit I’d had drilled into my head for 16 fucking years. But the second, the fucking instant I even started to think about letting all that go, there he was. Looking at me like I was shit on his shoe, like he hated that I was his son. All I ever wanted was to make him proud but after that, how could I ever?”

He can’t breathe through his nose, he feels like he’s suffocating, he drags in a breath that catches and stutters in his throat. “Cas, I spent my entire life living up to his ideal. He was my hero. I wanted to be him, to be as strong as him, as brave, as smart. He and Sammy were everything I had, my whole fucking world, and no matter what I tried to do to impress him, the only thing he said, the only fucking thing that mattered was “Look out for Sammy”. If you cut me open I’m pretty sure it’s gouged into my heart Cas.”

Tears are running into Dean’s hair now, he doesn’t look at Cas and it’s almost as if he’s talking to himself when he speaks again. “He never really looked at me the same way again. He never made gay jokes again either; I guess it wasn’t funny anymore. I threw myself back into being everything he wanted, I dressed like him, listened to his music, drank too much and fucked too many women; I was the fucking poster child for overcompensation. Didn’t have much trouble avoiding guys anyway because every time I so much as looked at one, all I could see was you.”

He drags in a breath and carries on, words gushing out, tumbling white water over jagged rocks. “Leaving you here broke me. Telling you to leave me alone was the hardest thing I have ever done, without a doubt Cas and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you, I just didn’t know what else to do, I was so scared and I wanted to stay so badly but I couldn’t leave Sam. He would’ve turned him into me and he’s too good for that. If I learned anything that night it was that good things don’t happen to me. Anytime anything feels like it might be going my way I find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop and every time, without fail, I get bombarded by metaphorical falling footwear.” He takes another stuttering breath, “Then he died. After all that he went and got killed by a fucking demon. I should have been free then but instead I threw myself further in, became more like him because there was no one else, no one to look out for Sammy but me and I still wanted to make Dad proud of me. Even when he was fucking dead Cas! I’ve spent my entire life looking after my brother; I’ve got him this far, how can I not give up everything when he needs me to?”

Cas raises himself on his arm, looking into his eyes he pushes Dean’s damp hair back and trails his fingers down his lover’s neck. “You persist in believing that you’re nothing but a blunt instrument for defending others, but the moment I first met you, you made me smile like nothing else ever had. I knew you for a day and in some way you’ve colored every moment of my life since then. That self-sacrificing military bullshit is your father’s. He was the one who was weak Dean. He couldn’t step up and care for you and Sam the way he needed to. He could have asked for help but he didn’t, he just dumped all the responsibility, all the anger and guilt he couldn’t deal with onto you. You didn’t deserve that and you don’t deserve to die.”

Castiel shifts up to kiss the top of Dean’s head and pull him over to lie against his chest. The remnants of tears dampen his skin, Dean stiffens, uncomfortable with the change of position at first, but as Cas continues to speak softly the tension gradually flows out of him.

“I’ve waited ten years for this day.” Cas says quietly, “There’s no way I’m letting you go now. We’ll find another way Dean, I promise.” His voice is soft but there is determination like steel underneath the words. Dean lets out a long breath, and his muscles soften as he melts into Cas. He tightens his arms around him, closes his eyes and says nothing.

*

 Gabriel sits at the foot of Sam’s bed in an old, moth-eaten armchair. He balances a mug of rapidly cooling coffee precariously on the arm and he twirls the stick of his ever-present lollipop between his lips as he leafs through a book on supernatural parasites that he found in one of the storage rooms. The realization of how the Nuckelavee worked had rung a bell in his memory. He flicks through the pages of the book, searching for something he read many years ago. His other hand rests on Sam’s blanket-covered leg, which he occasionally squeezes absently as he reads. Now and again he lifts his eyes from the book and glances at Sam’s sleeping face. Sam’s eyes are closed but they move rapidly behind his lids. He makes small, distressed noises and his body twists slightly, tangling the sheets around his legs. Gabriel’s touch and softly murmured meaningless sounds seem to soothe him somewhat but the effort of trying to keep Sam on an even keel is starting to take its toll on Gabe as well. Pressure is building behind his eyes and every word he reads makes him feel like his eyeballs are about to pop.

Suddenly Gabriel blinks and re-focuses on the page beneath his hand. There it is, in black and white. The break they’ve been looking for. His grip on Sam’s leg tightens as he reads and he breaks into a wide grin, “Sammy,” he whispers, sitting forward quickly, ignoring the mug as it falls off onto the floor. Sam groans at the sound of his name, “I think I’ve got something.” Gabe leans over and plants a kiss on Sam’s forehead. As his lips touch Sam’s skin he almost re-coils in horror at the impression of emptiness inside him. It feels like Sam is barely inhabiting the body in front of him at all. When he reaches out into his mind, panicked, he feels the familiar glow but it is buried deep under piles of poisonous debris. It’s going to have to be soon, they don’t have any more time. “I won’t be long baby, hold on for me ok?” He whispers to Sam, “It’s gonna be alright kiddo.”

*

When Gabriel walks into the library it takes all of his self-control not to yell, “Oh thank fuck for that!” and throw some confetti or something more solid at them. If he wasn’t too busy freaking out over Sam’s condition he would definitely be doing that. As it is he carefully files the scene away for later comedy value.

Some of the books on nearby shelves seem to have been knocked off, as if something hit the wall with a certain amount of force. Unidentified articles of clothing lie in heaps on the floor and draped over the furniture as if they landed there from a great height. In the middle of the chaos Dean and Cas lie, tangled around each other on the buttoned, brown leather couch by the fireplace. They appear to be asleep, semi-naked, sticky and disheveled but completely relaxed, Dean’s head rests on Cas’s bare chest, his hand splayed over his stomach, rising and falling evenly with his breathing. The fingers of one of Cas’s hands are buried in Dean’s hair while the other is wrapped around his waist, holding him close.

Even without his magic Gabriel is pretty sure he would be able to feel the palpable sense of relief that permeates the room. A decade’s worth of tension, regret and longing has dissipated leaving a blanket of calm. Gabriel watches them fondly, he almost hates to wake them but there is work to be done. He crouches next to the couch by Cas’s head.  
“Cassie,” he says softly. Cas stirs but doesn’t open his eyes. “Castiel!” he raises his voice a little and Cas’s eyes snap open and he blinks, jerking his head back in surprise as he tries to focus on Gabriel’s face, inches away from his own. They look at each other in silence for a moment, each feeling more than a little awkward. “Hi!” Gabriel begins brightly, “Umm…Mazel Tov?”

Cas glares at him for a moment but he finds that he doesn’t feel like arguing. “What on earth do you want?” He asks, unable to prevent the small smile that tugs at his lips as he struggles to prop his head on his hand, glancing down at Dean’s face, soft in sleep. Attempting to sit up without disturbing Dean or falling off the couch, Castiel pulls his unbuttoned shirt around himself and studiously ignores his brother’s smirk. He points to an old grey blanket on the back of one of the arm chairs and Gabriel passes it to him. Cas carefully slides himself out from under his sleeping lover and covers Dean with the blanket, passing a hand softly over his hair. Then he turns to Gabriel, eyebrows raised. “Well?”

Gabriel holds up Cas’s jeans and the book on parasites, “Pants first, then I’ve got a cunning plan.” He whispers.

*

Cas and Gabriel stand in Sam’s room watching him twist and turn in his sleep. “I can’t do anything more.” Gabriel says quietly.

Cas turns to look at his brother and the pain in his eyes catches him by surprise. He knew Gabe had a crush on Sam but he suddenly realizes that it has developed into something a bit more than that. “I’m sorry Gabriel,” he says, “Are you certain?”

Gabriel nods but his eyes brighten a little as he replies, “Yeah, there’s no more I can do with healing magic but I think I’ve found something else that might work.” He shows Cas the book, open on the foot of the bed, he taps the passage on the page excitedly.

Castiel leans over and reads it carefully. “I haven’t seen this mentioned anywhere else Gabriel; is it just the one source?”

“So far yeah, but how many mentions of these things did you find at all? This book wasn’t even in the main library. I only remembered it by chance when I realized the thing was parasitic.” He shrugs, “Anyway at this point we’re out of options.” He looks over at Sam, avoiding his brother’s eyes, “I know it’s dumb ok, and we just met and he’s been semi-conscious for most of that time but I’ve got this feeling, I can’t explain it but I think he might be it for me, my soul-mate or whatever you want to call it, and I really don’t want to lose him before we’ve even started.” The words rush out in a jumble and Gabriel’s face grows red, he still doesn’t look back at Castiel.

Cas smiles and puts a hand on his brothers shoulder, “Gabe, are you seriously embarrassed to tell me that you’re in love with someone you just met? Me?”

Gabriel turns back with a smirk, “Well yeah, I’m not used to being as much of a sap as you. I’m the cool one.”

Cas rolls his eyes, “Whatever assbutt.” He points down at the book again, “So do you have an actual plan? I don’t think the Nuckelavee is going to cooperate that easily. I’m sure it knows its own weaknesses.”

“Yep, that’s where I come in. It’s willing to do a trade right? Take someone else in place of Sam and it wants you.”

“Yess…” Cas says warily, “How do you know that?”

“I overheard Dean talking to it in the dungeon. Offering himself in your place. Very noble by the way, but I like my plan better.”

Cas frowns, his chest tightens when he thinks of Dean offering to sacrifice himself for him and Sam. If there’s another way out of this then he’s definitely on board. He takes a deep breath and nods, “Ok, what do we do?”


	11. Chapter 11

JULY 2005

When he finally wakes up, Dean has no idea how long he’s been out. The library is dark, he’s wearing only his shorts and he’s covered by an old, grey woven blanket. The leather of the couch is cold, his skin sticks to it uncomfortably. He misses the warmth of Cas’s body against his. He remembers telling himself he’d just rest his eyes for a moment after he and Cas…where is Cas?

“Cas?” He calls quietly; there’s no answer. “Cas!” He raises his voice but there’s still no reply. He tries to tell himself it’s fine, Cas has probably just gone to hit the head. Stop freaking out.

He lies still, willing himself to relax but deep inside him his fears boil over. Cas is gone. A decade of build-up, fantasy and rose-tinted glasses didn’t match up with the reality of Dean Winchester: complete clusterfuck of angst and neuroses. He can’t really say he blames him for running away.

He wishes he had just made the creature take him last night. Why did he go to Cas anyway? To say goodbye? To get him out of his system? One last hurrah with someone he knew would never turn him away? Or was he secretly hoping Cas would talk him out of it?

He remembers the way he felt when Cas whispered words of reassurance against his skin, the utter conviction in the his tone. He had allowed himself to believe, for a moment, that there would be another way.

Now, in the cold light of the figurative morning after, he knows Cas was just telling him what he needed to hear. He knows what he has to do. He rubs the salt of dried tear-tracks from his cheeks, pushes the blanket off and stands on slightly wobbly legs. At least this way he doesn’t have to say goodbye.

Looking around the room he sees his jeans and his plaid shirt lying where he threw them. He gets dressed while wondering around the room in a daze, his muscles complain and, despite the lead in his heart, he flushes as he remembers the brimming, impatient pleasure of digging his fingers into the solid muscle of Cas’s ass; of lifting him up, devouring and being devoured, desperate for fulfillment.

He stops at the doorway. He’d told himself in that desperation that it was ok, that he would be able to let go again but now he realizes that was a ridiculous notion. It’s as if the thread that Cas said had drawn them back to each other is woven around his heart. All he can think of is losing himself in those eyes, in that body, pouring away all the fear and doubt he has carried around for so many years. Letting himself feel comforted, love and be loved and to fill up all the hollow spaces inside Cas, to make him smile, to see him laugh and know that he is happy.

But Cas doesn’t want that.

He needs to see Sam one last time before he does this, he needs to know he will be ok.

Everything in the hallway is silent, he can’t see or hear anyone. He stops, his bare feet freezing on the cold tiles. Down the corridor in the distance he sees the door to Sam’s room. He runs toward it as quickly and silently as he can manage. Outside the door he stops and frowns as he listens. He can’t hear anything, no breathing, no snoring. A quick glance around the door is enough to tell him the room is empty.

Sam’s boots are on the floor, the bed linen is rumpled and pushed aside. There is a smear of blood on the pillow and his brother has gone. The only sign of a struggle is a coffee mug, its spilt contents soaking into the carpet. Next to it is a pile of candy wrappers and confused anger rises at the sight. Gabriel. What has that little bastard done to his brother?

His chest feels tight, he can’t catch his breath and John’s voice is shouting in his head; What is wrong with you? How could you let a fucking witch mess around with your brother? There’s no such thing as a healer Dean; he uses magic so he’s a fucking witch! You corrupted Sam. He looks up to you and now he’s a freak like you. You were supposed to look after him but you were off getting your cock sucked by some queer and now your brother is what? Dead?

For a terrible moment he is stuck; rooted to the spot by self-loathing. His heart is pounding and his head hurts. A roiling cloud of anger swirls behind his eyes but then Cas’s words come back to him, his assured sincerity breaking through the old, endless loop. “He was the one who was weak Dean.”

Dean bites down hard on his lip, tasting coppery, warm blood and takes a deep breath, screwing up his eyes and picturing John. “Fuck you.” He spits, the words are like knives. He remembers all of his father’s anger and all the times he blamed Dean for shit that wasn’t his fault. “Fuck you. You were a selfish, obsessed Bastard and none of it was my fault.” He grits out, “I didn’t deserve any of your shit.”

He lets go of the black cloud behind his eyes and watches it dissolve as he opens his eyes slowly. He feels lighter and clearer than he has for as long has he can remember. The fear still lingers but it is quiet and small in the corner of his mind and he knows now that he can do this. He will find his brother and he will help him, but he will do it because Sam is his brother and he loves him, not because it is his job. He realizes in that moment that there is a big difference between those things. If he is going down it will be on his own terms.

*

Dean walks down the corridors again, he has looked for Sam and Gabriel and Cas in all the common areas with no luck. He’s got no idea what’s going on but he knows his brother can’t have much time left. There is nothing else he can do except go to the creature now.

He reaches the store room where the dungeon entrance is hidden and goes in.

Inside the light is already on and the false copy of Paradise Lost sticks out at an angle where the door mechanism has already been triggered. His heart is in his mouth as he slowly pulls the door open and steps through.

Inside the inner door is closed but he can see into the room though the small barred viewing window. What he sees almost makes him cry out; Castiel stands next to the Nuckelavee, leaning over its chair.

“I know you’d rather have me,” Cas is saying, matter-of-factly. “Sam has no powers, no magic. Drain him and you’ll be needing someone else within the year, the same goes for Dean.” He opens his hands, “If you let him go and take me you could go decades without needing anyone else. No risk, no danger. You’ll be stronger than you’ve been for a long time.”

The creature looks at him, rolling its eye and drawing back its lipless mouth over teeth like horrible needles, “You would give yourself up?”

Castiel nods, “Yes.”

Dean can’t stop himself now, he calls Castiel’s name and bangs on the door. Cas doesn’t turn, he just grabs the creature by its rags. “I’m getting bored now, time to do this.” He says, hauling it to its feet.

The metal chair scrapes on the concrete floor as the monster staggers to its feet. The restraints that bound it to the chair are undone but there are shackles around its arms again and Dean can see the faint curls of smoke from singed muscle where the iron touches it.

As the creature turns to Cas, baring its gaping maw, blood stained teeth catching the light Dean slams his shoulder against the solid door. “Cas! Please!” He yells, pounding on the door, “Please…I love you!”

But it’s too late. The creature leans down and buries its fangs into Cas’s neck. Blood wells up and runs over, cascading down its chin, over Cas’s shoulder, soaking into his shirt. Cas gasps, his eyes go wide, hands grabbing at nothing as he staggers and drops heavily to his knees. The creature follows him down, pulling his head back by his hair as he goes.

Dean can hear someone screaming Cas’s name, cursing, crying; he wonders if it might be him.

Finally the creature pulls away. It shoves Cas down into the dirt of the dungeon floor. He coughs weakly, spitting blood into the dust.

The creature grins, standing up straight, waiting to feel the rush as the powerful life force starts to be absorbed into its own. Then it looks confused for a second and then panicked, staggering slightly and reaching out blindly for the chair.

Cas smiles up at it through blood-coated lips and teeth. And then, suddenly it’s not Cas. The figure on the floor twists, stretches, changes shape and then it’s Sam and he is grinning like the cat that got the cream.

Dean stops, hands on the cold bars of the door, hoarse cries dying in his throat. He feels a pair of hands on his shoulders and he spins, ready to attack. Behind him is Cas and he’s smiling. “It’s ok Dean, I’m ok, Sam’s going to be ok.” He says as he puts his arms around Dean and pulls him towards him.

Dean chokes as he clutches at Cas, grasping handfuls of his shirt in his fists, crushing their lips together in a desperate kiss, breathing too hard and too fast. “What the fuck is going on Cas?” He asks as he breaks away, fingers still curled in Cas’s shirt.

Cas points over Dean’s shoulder to the scene in the dungeon. “It was Gabriel’s idea,” he said and Dean looks down at him, slightly panicked. “It’s ok, it was one of his better ones.”

Beyond the door Sam laughs at the creature as it flails, choking and gasping. It is shriveling before their eyes, the exposed skin like old, dried reeds; splitting and flaking away as it lets out a hideous scream which doesn’t end until, abruptly there is nothing left but a pile of old rags and fragments of something swirling in the air and a piercing sound ringing in their ears.

Sam braces his hands on the floor and gets to his feet. The black lines that seemed to trace every inch of his skin are receding fast, back towards the site of the original bite. Then, as he runs his fingers over the wound it begins to close over, leaving behind nothing to indicate that it had ever been there. Sam rolls his shoulders and grins, giving the thumbs up to Dean in the doorway.

Dean laughs in giddy relief and turns back to Cas. “What the hell did he do?” He asks.

There is a flicker and the sound of clicking fingers and Gabriel appears next to them, smirking, “Well it was a fucking amazing plan, if I do say so myself,” He says, pulling a blue sucker out of his pocket because he can’t seem to last five minutes without sugar, “I read a book of lore that said a Nuckelavee will die if it bites someone it’s already drained. Basically it’ll absorb its own poison. So I figured; the one thing I am really fucking good at is casting glamour, so this is a perfect opportunity to play to my strengths. I gave Sammich there a last blast of healing, just enough to get him on his feet for a few minutes and then I glamoured him up to look like Cassie and he was only too happy to come down here and pretend to offer himself up as a sacrifice. Anyway, if you’ll excuse me…” Gabe throws open the dungeon door and makes a bee line for Sam, pulling him down and kissing him like it’s going out of fashion. Sam laughs and flails a little as he’s almost pulled off balance but he kisses Gabriel back just as hard, wrapping his arms around him and lifting him up.

Dean looks stunned, he can’t get his head round any of it. He doesn’t know whether to be amazed that they pulled it off, angry that they did it without asking him or both. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He screws his eyes shut, rests his head against Cas’s chest, breathing hard, “I thought you were fucking dead Cas.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Sam didn’t want you to know, he thought you would try and persuade him not to do it.” Cas explains quietly.

Protective anger bubbles up inside Dean and he’s about to yell at them all but then Cas touches his face gently and he stops, leaning into the warm touch, “Also, for what it’s worth, I love you too Dean.” Cas says and Dean can’t hold back his smile and the feeling like something huge opening in his heart, unfolding and stretching out. He looks over at his giant brother who is grinning down at the man who saved him, or, more importantly, the man who helped him to save himself, without getting either of them killed. Can he really say his way would have been better? Would he have trusted Gabe’s plan if they had told him? Probably not.

 


	12. Epilogue

It’s been a week since Sam was healed and the Nuckelavee became nothing but a drift of dust trodden into the dungeon floor. To be entirely honest, after the initial celebration of the that fact that everyone was alive and no one was going to have to offer to die for anyone else, neither set of brothers has seen much of their siblings.

Dean and Cas and Sam and Gabe disappeared into rooms a discrete distance from each other and haven’t really emerged since, except for the odd trip to the kitchen.

Cas is currently on one such trip and Dean is lying on the old bed in the room Cas has called his since he was a teenager, wearing nothing but his underwear and waiting idly for Cas to re-appear.

The room looks more or less like the one he’d been given for a night 10 years ago, but the similarity doesn’t remind him of heartbreak and rage anymore. It feels comfortable, like a chrysalis from which, at some point they will emerge as something new.

There are stacks of books on every available surface, in fact stacks of books make up some of the available surfaces. Coffee cups perch on top of piles of texts on ancient languages and mythology.

On the walls there are research notes from longer term investigations, some charts pertaining to certain kinds of magic and a collection of cuttings from travel magazines of beautiful or interesting places - the Grand Canyon, Mount Fuji, the Great Barrier Reef along with more incongruous places – the world’s biggest ball of string, The House on the Rock, the world’s largest cherry pie.

By the bed is a small collection of framed pictures, of Castiel and Gabe as kids; of a smiling couple who Dean now knows were their parents; of Gabriel sitting in the library grinning with a glowing magical ball of light floating above his hand. There is also a picture of a woman with a long grey braid and a purple dress standing outside the bunker, shielding her eyes against a setting sun and smiling. Dean had almost forgotten about Rose but he wishes he could see her again, he wants to thank her, for being kind to him and Sam but also for being kind to Cas when he needed it most. He would like her to know that he did come back.

The door is kicked open with a bang and Cas stands in the doorway with his hands full of beer and pizza and a bag of popcorn held between his teeth, “Shit, sorry.” He mumbles around the bag as the door re-bounds off the wall.

Dean grins and gets up, reaching out to take the bag from Cas’s mouth as he dumps the rest of his burden on the bed. “Food.” Cas says, leaning down to kiss Dean, “And beer.” He passes a bottle to Dean who twists the lid off and passes it back to him. Cas laughs, “I don’t know how I managed all this time without you. When I think of all that time I wasted with bottle openers.” Dean takes the other bottle and opens it, “What can I say, it’s one of my many skills.” He says, taking a long pulls from the bottle.

Cas watches him drink, eyes shining, “Hmmm,” He agrees, “you do have many skills.”

Dean puts down his bottle and leans over to grab the back of Cas’s head and pull him down on top of him, Cas laughs and moves to put down his bottle. While he’s distracted Dean kisses down his neck, biting and sucking lightly as he goes. Cas moans and turns back to press their lips together, “Mmmm,” He murmurs and moves forward, grinding his hips against Dean’s and feeling his hard length pressing against his thigh, he raises his eyebrows, “Again?” He says, “Already?”

Dean grins and cants his hips up slightly, feeling the corresponding heat of Cas’s erection against his own, “We have a lot of time to make up for Cas.” He whispers against Cas’s ear, making him groan.

“We do.” Cas agrees, reaching down to wrap his hand around Dean. “But we also have forever to make it up in.”

Dean’s head falls back against the pillow as Cas’s hand slides under his boxers and wraps around his length, when he twists his hand slightly at the top Dean moans and reaches for Cas. He wants, wants to make Cas feel as good as he feels, to show him how much he loves him. He wants him to know he will never leave again. Cas smiles and pushes his hand away gently, “Later.” He says, the words ghosting against his lips. With a wicked grin he begins to move down Dean’s body, pressing small kisses against his chest and across his stomach, muscles flutter under his touch. He drags his lips across the cut of Dean’s hipbones, nipping gently. Dean bucks his hips up, his cock is achingly hard, lying heavy against his stomach. Cas ghosts his lips over it as he moves down but he doesn’t open his mouth. Dean moans and grabs at Cas’s hair.

Cas gives one wide lick of Dean’s cock from the base to the tip and then moves to lick over his balls, flicking the soft skin with his tongue. Dean gasps and tightens his hold on Cas’s hair to the edge of pain; Cas moans at the sensation.

Any kind of coherence long since gone, Dean is groaning and biting his lip hard, his aching cock dripping pre-come onto his stomach. Cas smiles, and lifts his head briefly to glance around for the almost empty bottle of lube that was definitely around here somewhere. He sees it under the covers and grabs it. He opens it and flicks his tongue over Dean again while he squeezes a generous amount of lube into his hand before making slow circles around Dean’s hole, pressing gently. “Oh fuck Cas,” Dean moans at the cool slide, the slight pressure, the heat of Cas’s touch. “Holy shit.” He digs his fingers into Cas’s scalp, moaning at the broken sounds Cas makes in response.

Over the last few days this is by far the first time they have done this but Dean is still overawed by the sensations, the stretch and the slide, the slight burn and the feeling of being so completely filled by Cas. He is gradually learning to love letting go, surrendering all of himself to Cas and he knows now that his lover will always take care of him.

He bears down slightly, impatient. Cas smiles against his skin, licking along his cock again as he looks up along the line of Dean’s body, admiring strong muscle and smooth skin. His mouth is open, his throat flushed, green eyes flash beneath heavy lids. This is the view he has been waiting for forever; not just for the last 10 years. Even before the moment he left his heart in pieces on the shiny floor. He smiles and presses his lips softly to firm muscle. He knows he will never tire of it.

*

A little while later they are lying together, wrapped in each other’s arms. Cas’s head rests on Dean’s chest, listening to the other man’s heartbeat as it gradually returns to normal.

“What do you want to do now Cas?” Dean asks suddenly, his voice rumbling in his chest under Cas’s ear.

Cas shrugs, “Eat cold pizza and drink flat beer?” He suggests.

Dean laughs, “Yeah ok, but after that? What are we going to do? You’re here and I’m…out there. You know? On the road.”

Cas nods, “I know…I’ve been trying not to think about it.” He pauses for a while, drumming his fingers lightly against Dean’s bicep. “I’ve been here for so long. I do love it but…I think part of me wanted to be here because I knew this is where you were coming back to. Maybe, now I’ve found you again, I should get out a bit?”

Dean sits up slightly and Cas raises his head to look up at him, “Really?” Dean asks with a barely concealed smile, “You want to come on the road with us?”

Cas nods, “Yes, if you’d have me? There are a lot of places I’d like to see and I am lacking in first-hand experience of a lot of creatures.”

“Oh ok, so nothing to do with me then?”

Cas grins, “No not really, although that would be an added bonus I suppose.”

“Gee thanks.” Dean laughs and squeezes Cas tighter in his arms.

*

Down the corridor Sam and Gabe are having a very similar discussion. Sam is lying face down across the bed with his feet hanging off one end and Gabriel rests his head on the small of Sam’s back, pressing his lips against the soft swell of his ass. Sam is twirling strands of Gabe’s hair around his long fingers as they debate what they will do when they finally decide to leave the bedroom. “Well,” Sam says tentatively, “I kinda like it here.”

Gabriel looks up at him in surprise, “Really?”

“Well yeah. There’s all this Lore and magic and history. It’s amazing, I kind of want to learn more about it all you know.”

“Nerd.”

Sam smacks awkwardly on the top of his head, “Whatever. Look I know you’re probably sick of the place but if you have to stay for a while anyway, I’d like to stay too.”

Gabriel twists until he can look into Sam’s eyes, “Baby, this place is mind-blowingly dull but it’s amazing how much better it seems with you here. Also obviously if you stay we can have a lot of sex, so that’s good too.”

Sam kisses him and grins, “Awesome, I love you.” He stops, looking surprised and then nods to himself, “Yeah, I really do.”

“I love you too kiddo.”

*

When they all finally surface again and plans are compared, Dean feels a hint of the old panic at the idea of leaving Sam in the bunker but between them they win him over. It’s not like it’s forever, Sam says; they can meet up again soon. They could swop and he and Gabe could go hunting while Dean and Cas stay in the bunker?

There are no rules they need to follow now, no one to approve or disapprove; they are free. Perhaps, Dean thinks at last, all the shoes that are going to fall have fallen.

 

THE END


End file.
